Carridon Stonethrow was dragged down the main hall of Dagoth castle, his clothes a torn mess, his hair in tangles, blood spattering it. A host of guardsmen hauled him along the expanse of the hall with its bright lanterns and carpeted floors while other guards stood their post on either side of the hall and watched. Some watched with looks of amusement, which Carridon scowled at. Others cast him looks of pity which made him more irate, but he didn't struggle at the bonds that held him, he didn't invite another beating from his captors. The twin doors of heavy wood and gold were opened ahead of him and the guardsmen drug him to his feet. The light from the throne room was brighter than the main hall, flooding out from it like the gates of heaven. Standing on his own two feet he marched in. The king sat on his throne toward the back of the large room, councilors on either side of him in their cloaks, hands clasped at their waists. Carridon stood proud, not bending knee to the king even when the guards struck him from behind. Darius waved them off, smiling at the defiance that Carridon showed in the face of defeat. With the wave of his hand he dismissed the door guards from the room, telling only four of them to stay, the same four that had drug him in here to be judged by his conqueror.
Darius rose from his throne, stepping off the dais that it was raised upon, and strolled toward him. The councilors stayed in their place save for Urien, who had arrived from the battle of Southcross in time to stand in judgment of the once proud ruler. Urien was sure to stay a fair distance behind him out of respect of the king and out of fear that Darius would take offense. The king had sentenced men for lesser things of late.
"How the mighty have fallen," Darius addressed him loudly, so that all the men in the chamber could hear him, "You stayed true to your word that you would stand against me should I move for the High Throne. You have failed. Where, I ask, is the might of the Eagle now? Did he not say that he would fight at your side and vanquish me?"
"You know that Rimerez Eaglesbane fights to the north with the ageless. His war is never ending. We should have been there, at the northern mountains, aiding him rather killing each other, Darius. The High Throne is not for you."
"I disagree," Darius growled, "And so does the High Father. When I journey to Dynasty you will see, all will see that I am meant for this. I am the one to succeed Bryan Stormfyre. My name will be remembered when men think of great deeds!"
"Your name shall be remembered, Darius, as the maniac that would be king of the land! Your ambition has unhinged you! Don't you see that the seeds of madness are taking you? Where is the old advisor of the family, Raza? I have heard that you sentenced him to the dungeons for acting in your best interests! That surely sounds like the act of a sane man!"
"Silence! The dungeons will be where you are going soon enough! I find you guilty of being a traitor to the continent of Umbriel! You defy the succession and sully the good name of the future ruler of all the land! For these crimes I sentence you to life within the confines of Dagoth, where you will spend the rest of you days rotting in your cell, begging for me to kill you, to end the pathetic existence that your life has become. But there will be no pity, not while I am king, and not while dogs like you allow hollow envy to instigate outright war."
"You attacked my kingdom, my people, Darius! What did you think I would do but fight back! Delude yourself all you wish but you will never be the king that your brother was, and stealing the High Throne won't prove anything!"
"I'll show you the meaning of delusion, Carridon," Darius fairly growled, moving swiftly back to his throne and taking his broad sword from the scabbard where it sat against the arm. He spun around and stalked toward the man, blade before him. Carridon stood tall, his face calm with sureness. The guards cast each other slack jawed glances as they watched their king close on them.
"Delusion is when a man at the complete mercy of another casts aspersions at his rulership when he should be pleading for his life. I want to hear you plead for your life, Carridon. Beg me to spare you and I may allow you a more comfortable place in my castle than the dungeons."
"You wish for me to beg for mercy?" Carridon almost laughed as Darius stopped before him, blade inches from Carridon's face, "You just said that there is no mercy to be found here. I will not give you the satisfaction. Know that the words I speak are truth, for the truth is hard to hide in shadows. Know also that I would die your equal."
"No!" Darius screamed, whipping the blade around his head, catching the blade in the light and making it burn gold as it whined through the air, "No one is equal to me any longer! I will have it all, and remove all obstacles that bar my path! Take these words with you when you go to hell, Carridon!" Darius leveled the sword and impaled the former king, driving the point straight through his stomach until it stuck out the other side. Carridon gasped and went slack, blood spilling from his mouth onto the plush carpet of the floor.
Darius wrenched the blade free, grinning wickedly as Carridon crumpled to the floor in a lifeless heap. The guards stood before their king with stiff legs, not knowing what to do. Darius spun away from them, sword still at his side, and fixed Urien with a freezing stare.
"Get this corpse out of my throne room. Burn the body and send a broken piece of his crown to his retainers, showing them what is in store for them if they cross me. Now move." The guards were quick to act, taking the dead body under the armpits and dragging it along the floor. Urien flinched when Darius passed him, motioning with his sword for the councilor to follow.
"Yes, your highness?" Urien asked him, feeling his heart pound in his chest. Carridon was right about one thing, at the least. Darius was becoming unhinged, slowly but surely. Urien swallowed hard, feeling his throat going dry.
"Send scouts past Border Town. I want to know if the Eagle mounts an army, and I want to know quickly. Send them as far north as Paishon, and give them orders to kill any they question. I want no one aware that I wish to know the status of Avalon's army."
"Of course, your majesty. Is there anything else?"
"Yes. Send for Commander Jaist. I have another task for him. He will lead my men to the south and siege Cromley Tower."
"Cromley Tower, sire?" Is he not an ally of ours?"
"I know that Baron Cromley has an agenda that threatens my own. He is no ally. I want the guard commander to march on the tower and raze it to the ground. It will be testament of any that turn against the might of Dagoth."
"Of course, your majesty," Urien spoke softly.
"Oh, and Urien? If you ever question my rulings in public like that again, you shall find out how quickly you may be joining Raza. Do you understand me?"
"Understood, sire. I meant no disrespect."
"Forgiven, this time. Now leave me to my thoughts. There is much I need to ponder and you will only distract me." He watched the councilors each bow to him before leaving the throne room, closing the twin doors behind them. There was stony silence in place of the constant whispering that he was so accustomed to. His mind felt troubled. He hadn't meant to kill Carridon Stonethrow but the rage had caught hold of him. In it, it was all he could think of to strike the man down. He supposed that it was no great loss. Southcross had been removed from the battle. If he was blessed, then he could move on Dynasty before any formidable army could mount an attack. When Cromley Tower fell he would gather his own retainers and the Honor Guard and travel to Dynasty, where he would meet his destiny. The thought put a smile on his lips.
The air was thick with smoke from burning huts. There were screams of battle and death, torn from the mouths of the dying. Damien dropped to his knees, feeling the pain of those that were bleeding feet from him, knowing there was nothing he could do for them. The dying were the ageless, giant savages that thrived in the bitter cold past the northern mountains. This was one of their villages, a cluster of oversized huts made to accommodate their massive frames. Damien guessed that the pair of ageless laying before him, hands outstretched and red with blood, must have stood better than nine feet in they could stand at all. He prayed a prayer of passing, hoping that the One would accept these heathen souls into His kingdom.
Another scream found him, closer and from behind. He spun to see the cloud of smoke break apart and another of the ageless roll down the side of a snowy hill. He came to rest at the bottom, a quartet of arrows filling his chest. Grief gripping him at the sight of such loss of life, Damien picked himself up and scrambled for the ageless. The being was nearly human, not savage looking at all but gentle in appearance, with raised eye brows and overly large ear lobes. The skin was the color of snow, and it’s almost coin sized eyes were bright green, full of luster and life. Damien marveled, shaking his head at the fact that this man had four arrows in his chest but still fought to live.
"Name of the One," Damien whispered, a tear coursing down his cheek, "You're not bloodthirsty savages. Why does the Eagle hunt you as he does? What crime has been committed that it requires them to keep you from our boundaries? Are you truly invaders?"
The ageless failed to answer; Damien guessed that he couldn't understand the priest's language. The being raised a long fingered hand, complete with an extra set of knuckles at the tip, and brushed the tear from Damien's face. It smiled at him, a knowing smile, and then there was nothing in those eyes. The ageless was dead.
Damien reached out and closed the eyes of the ageless, speaking once more the prayer of passing. Then came the familiar voice in his head, same as it always came, filling him until he could think of nothing else.
"Do you see?" the voice questioned, full of majesty and power, "Do you see the truth, Damien? You must show them the truth; let them know that they both possess the right to the faith. Do this, Damien. Then come to me."
Damien woke from his sleep with a start. It was just before dawn, the sun only a red line on the horizon, but he knew that he wasn't sleeping any longer than that. The dream had found him again. Stronger than before. The sound of shuffling feet made him look around and he saw Kamil stuffing his old travelling clothes into his saddlebags. Damien sat up and cleared his throat to let the youth know that he was awake. Kamil stopped what he was doing and hastened to put a shirt on over his bare chest. Damien smiled a bit, but wiped the smile away before Kamil could see.
"Kirstin told me that you were in quite a rage yesterday," he said, taking care not to rouse the others.
"I'm over it. I just don't think that I'm cut out to be a swordsman, that's all. I don't have the reflexes, or something."
"You think that you would become as skilled as Cameron in just a few weeks? I'm sure that Cameron has told you that he has lived with the blade most of his life. It's as much a part of him as a wife would be to you, or my faith is to me. Give it time, Kamil. It is something that one so young had a lot of."
"Kirstin's better than I am!" Kamil shouted, then quickly lowered his voice when he saw Ferrin stir, "I've been practicing just as long as she has but Cameron's teaching her more advanced things while I can't even last two hits with him!"
"It will come to you, Kamil. Kirstin may be further along, but you cannot compare yourself to her. You must go at your own pace, or else you’re doomed to failure. This is all I can tell you."
"Somehow, father, that just doesn't make me feel any better." Kamil went to the task of making breakfast, which consisted of trail porridge in a metal bowl that Cameron carried in his saddle bag. The others woke and ate hastily, Cameron urging them to gather their things so that they could be on the road quickly.
The day was cloud covered, with a steady rainfall shrouding the ever flattening landscape. The shower had drenched them all to the bone by mid morning and Cameron called on them to stop when the down pour of rain made it too difficult to travel safely. He directed them under the boughs of a large oak that grew feet from the highway's edge. Dripping wet, they were happy to oblige, reining their horses to shelter.
"We wait out the rain," Cameron told them, "Or at least until it lessens enough for us to travel without worry of breaking the horses legs on hidden obstacles."
"You are not far from the village of Grenfall, warrior," came a soft voice from the opposite side of the tree, "Trouble will find you there. Of this I know more of." A hooded man stepped from around the tree, hands lost in the sleeves of his robes, wisps of black hair trailing from the hood. A medallion of silver hung from his neck with symbols on it that had been forgotten long ago.
Cameron was off Starn in an instant, sword in hand. He approached the cloaked man, leveling the blade before him. The others waited in their saddles, hearts pounding with a sudden fear. Ferrin smelled a bevy of scents from the man, making him too hard to read. That alone was enough for Ferrin to feel on edge.
"Who are you, stranger?" Cameron questioned, keeping the sword before him.
"I am a friend in this matter, an ally trying to see that no harm comes to you. A trap awaits you in Grenfall. The king has sent word that you are coming here."
"How do you know this?" Cameron demanded, gripping tighter to his sword, "How in the world would Steelbreeze send word to this village so far ahead of us that they could set a trap?"
"The royal army is not here, not yet. The trap will be sprung by men from the garrison in this village, men loyal to the might of Dagoth. They are ready for you, with orders to keep you until the army reaches the village."
"Is that so?" Cameron said sarcastically, "Then how am I to know you're not here to bait the trap, stranger?"
"I am saevant, teller of truths. What reason is there for me to lie to you? I have told you what dangers there are for you, it is now your choice how you will use this information. It is no longer my responsibility if you fall into the trap. Fare the well, warrior."
"Wait! Who sent you here? Who might we call ally if you are indeed here to help us?"
"One that doesn't want to see you fall shy of the goals that have been set before you. That is all I may say about the matter. Good bye." With a flash of smoke he vanished, leaving only a trace of soot on the ground to mark his passing. Cameron slid his sword back into the sheath and remounted Starn.
"Now what do we do?" Kirstin asked, looking more the a little scared at the prospect of riding into the village, "I mean if we can't go into Grenfall then we have to ride into the woods, don't we?"
"It changes nothing," Cameron said to her, watching for the rain to lessen.
"We're still going? But that man in the cloak just said they were waiting for us!" Kamil exclaimed, waving his hand to the spot of ground where the cloaked figure had been standing.
"And you would take him on his word that easily, Kamil? I'll tell you there are things out there in the deep of the forest that are far worse than any treacherous garrison. This changes nothing. We stay on our guard and ride swiftly with the rain as our cover. The road straight to Twin Port lies directly south of the village square. If we make haste then we may escape battle. If not, then we'll see if I've been wasting my time training all of you."
Cameron led them away from the oak and back out to the mud covered highway. They rode in silence, single file, waiting tensely for any sign of an attack. Cameron stopped them moments later with a raised hand. He called for Ferrin, who was more than happy to ride up beside him.
What is that ahead of us? Cameron signed, pointing ahead to a host of shapes on the road that were moving about in a macabre dance. Ferrin squinted his eyes and placed a hand over them to see better.
Eight people, I think. Two are on horseback, fighting the other six. Ferrin signed back, shaking rain from his hair. Cameron cursed softly, echoing the stranger's words in his mind. Could this be the prelude to an attack? Cameron didn't think so. If they were planning an ambush it would have been best to do so in the village where they could hide in alleys or doorways and surprise them. No, he gathered that this was a genuine battle, which meant that someone was in need of help. Two against six hardly seemed like fair odds.
"Kamil, Benmont, Kirstin! We ride into battle! Take out your swords and keep your wits about you! This is no game! Father Alohm and Ferrin, I think you would be best served staying here!" Cameron snapped the reigns of the horse and galloped ahead, watching the moving figures become clearer on the highway as he closed in on them. When he was almost close enough to attack he leapt off Starn with practiced ease and drew his blade. The sound of more feet slopping into wet earth told him they had done what he told him to. That's a first, he mused.
Ferrin had been right. Two on horseback, garrison judging from the shine of their ring mail armor, crossed blades with six roguish looking men that wore only light clothes, breeches and vests or thin shirts. They fought with a combination of axes and swords while the pair of garrison fought with sword and shield. Cameron noted that a body lay rolled into the ditch, mud clotting the ring mail that it wore.
Gritting his teeth, Cameron leapt into battle, crossing swords with a man nearly a foot taller than him and staying his attack as he tried to bury the blade into one of the rider's stomach. The man looked shocked, beads of water flying from his brow as he wrenched the sword away and swung for Cameron's waist. The warrior leaned back on one leg and slapped the blade farther on its course, then following through with a slash that laid the man's thigh open. Screaming, the rogue scrambled back and held out his sword to ward Cameron off. Smiling grimly, Cameron closed in to finish him off.
Kirstin drew out her blade from where it sat on the saddle behind her, shaking at the prospect of real battle. She slapped her horse’s haunch and it rode off leaving her to face the enemy. Kirstin raised the blade in front of her and stepped forward as she watched Cameron charge fearlessly into battle. One of the men attacking the garrison saw her coming and fell away from one of the riders as another of his companions delivered a shot that knocked the man off his horse. The rogue facing her was heavy set with a thick red beard, a scar lacing his nose. He grinned at her and she felt her blood run cold. What if she didn't have the nerve to kill this man? She shook her head, banishing those thoughts. She knew that it would be thoughts like that that would get her killed. Fear that would kill off her companions like it killed her brother, Huros.
Stealing herself, Kirstin slashed at the man with surprising speed. Even she was shocked, having been used to the weight of the wooden blades. The heavy set man tried to back step but caught the cutting edge along the chest. His shirt dropped open and blood ran down his front, making him put a hand to the wound in an attempt to stem the bleeding. His eyes flashed hatred at her and with a hoarse cry came charging for her. Kirstin fell back at the sight of him running through the rain, axe raised high over his head, but forced herself to keep from running. The rogue brought the axe down in a straight arc and she tried to parry it the way she did Benmont's blade, but the sheer force the man used was enough to make her arm go numb. Crying out, she dropped to her knees and rolled away from him. The man spun around and slashed low, the blade of the axe nearly catching her in the head. Kirstin stood back up but slipped in the mud, coming down on one knee. The rogue jumped in and chopped down at her, intending to bury the axe in her skull. Instead she let herself fall fully to the ground, bracing herself with one hand and slamming the blade home in his chest. She was surprised at how easily the metal sank in, going in nearly half way before it stopped its momentum.
The man stared at her with wide eyes, rain falling from his beard in heavy beads. Her jaw quivered as she watched his eyes lose the light they had possessed, his body toppling to the ground beside her. Kirstin rose quickly, numb from the shock of the battle. She wrenched the sword out of the man, feeling hollow about the victory. With her heart pounding in her ears, she moved on to the next opponent.
Kamil circled the roguish man as Cameron had taught him to, wait for the opportunity to strike or for the enemy to make a mistake. The man was shorter then he was, with thin limbed arms and little hair. His clothes seemed to hang off him and he sported a bandanna on his forehead. The rogue stepped in close, cutting diagonally for Kamil's chest, but the youth was fast blocking, catching the length of the blade and pushing the man away, nearly pushing him over. Kamil saw his chance and took it, thrusting his sword for the man's neck as he teetered there, trying to catch his balance. Kamil let out a shocked gasp when the man swept low, easily under his thrust, and used an outstretched leg to trip him. Kamil landed hard on his back, rain stinging his eyes. The man was above him, and it was his turn to thrust. The sharp edge of his sword caught Kamil on the shoulder, tearing through his shirt and vest and leaving a long slash that bled freely. Trying to think fast, Kamil rolled to one side, taking the man's legs out from under him. They were both quick to rise and the rogue slashed again, this time lower. Kamil put the blade straight down to stay the sword and punched the man with his free hand. The rogue stumbled, not expecting the strike, but recovered quickly enough to spin on his heel and stab for Kamil's stomach, a blow that Kamil couldn't reach in time.
Kirstin knocked the stroke aside, and the man fell back, trying to put them both in front of him. Kirstin followed through with the attack, slashing twice then stabbing low. The sound of steel ringing sounded twice then the rogue screamed in agony as Kirstins blade found a place in his stomach. She tugged out before the man could even fall over and turned to face Kamil. He stood there in the rain, his face dumbfounded at what just happened. She smiled at him but her smile faded when he turned fast from her, looking for another man to battle.
Benmont crossed swords with a man nearly his own size, a man that had a pony tail that ran the length of his back and wore no shirt, showing off the thick muscles that filled out his upper body. The man waved off Benmont's first assault and brought it low, trying to stamp it out of his hands. Benmont pulled free of his sword and swung the blade over his head, attempting to score a hit on the other side of the man's body. The big man was quick as well, knocking swords hard, trying to over balance him. Benmont shoved back for all he was worth, making the man slip in the mud and fall onto his posterior. Growling with anger, the burly rogue was quick to stand up and strike back, a lunging thrust that nearly took Benmont by surprise. He side stepped the lunge and brought the sword down on the man's head, knocking him with the hilt. The man dropped to the ground and began to scramble up, only to have Benmont kick him hard in the side, cracking ribs. The rogue rolled farther from him, splashing into the over flowing ditch before he stood. Benmont stalked toward him, snarling like an animal. The rogue dived for him, taking him at the legs. Both of them rolled over each other on the length of road, each trying to better the other.
The rogue dropped his sword and produced a dagger from his belt, cutting a clean gash along Benmont's chest. Screaming more with rage then with pain he tossed his attacker off and scrambled up. The rogue dove in, slashing with the dagger for Benmont's waistline. The youth dropped low and caught hold of the man's wrist with a free hand. Then he cut across the man's throat with his sword, nearly severing it with the strength that he used. Letting the body drop to the ground, he searched for any others that threatened him.
Cameron spun on his heel, in a complete circle, dropping from high to low in the slop of the road, and chopped his opponent first on his thigh, then he spun back up and off to the side, chopping another time into the man's arm along the bicep. Gasping, his attacker fell away, looking wildly for some way to escape the battle. Before he could run a blade came bursting out his back. Moaning, he dropped first to his knees and then to the ground face first.
Behind him was the last of the garrison, sword and armor tainted with lines of streaking red. The warrior took off the helmet and Cameron found a moment of shock when he found himself staring back at a woman. The woman had braids in her hair, falling down a bare neck. Her hair was trim and short, not passing her neck line. She was beautiful, Cameron thought. He nodded to her and sheathed the blade. He held out his hand to her, smiling in what he hoped was a polite smile.
"You fight well, warrior," she said as she accepted his hand, stepping closer to him. He watched her eyes travel from his face and down and back again, "Yes, you fight very well, I must say. What is your name?"
"I am Cameron Reol. My companions and I were just passing through when we saw trouble on the road ahead. We decided to investigate and find if it was anything we could help with."
"I'm glad you decided so, warrior."
"So am I," Cameron replied and watched her smile playfully before she wiped it away from her face, "So, what is your name?"
"I am Morrigan Icewind."
"Cameron!" came a voice from behind him. He could see the forms of Damien and Ferrin riding closer to them, "How in the world could you let them follow you into battle like this? They could have been killed!" Damien dismounted and hurried over to Kirstin, checking her to make sure she wasn't injured.
"I needed the help, father. They proved that they have what it takes to survive, at least against rabble like this."
"I will not have you speak so of the dead, Cameron," Damien snapped, kneeling before one of the men and closing his eyes before reciting the prayer of passing on him. It reminded him so much of the dream that he shuddered and had to stop for a moment before continuing.
Kamil came over to Cameron, nursing his shoulder, blood welling from between his fingers. Cameron gritted his teeth, swearing under his breath. He was quick to take out a swath of clean bandages from his pack and wrap Kamil's shoulder.
"How did that happen?"
"I slipped in the mud. I would have won if I hadn't slipped in the mud."
"Don't worry about it, Kamil. Those type of things happen," Cameron looked over at Morrigan who had been watching them all in silence, "Well, lady, would you like an escort back to the village?"
The ride to into Grenfall was swift after the battle. Morrigan brought them to an eatery on the edge of the village at Cameron's request. They dismounted their horses and stepped in from the driving rain, shaking it off their coats once they were out of it.
"I really must be getting back to the constable's station," Morrigan told them, "I appreciate what you did for me, even if it did cost me two of my men. But I better have men go fetch the bodies before scavengers find them."
"Stay a moment, please," Cameron took hold of her hand, "Father, find a table for the lot of us, preferably one that's near the fire. I will be there in just a minute." he watched them go, stepping from the waiting room of the eatery into the dining area, half filled with people sharing lunch.
"Morrigan," Cameron began, "What were those men doing out there on the road if I might ask? Why were you hunting them?"
"There have been poachers stealing animals for the last week or better. I caught one of them in the act last night, and he told me where to find the others in return for his release. I was trying to apprehend them when they attacked us. I had most of my men fanned out along the north and the west, where the poaching had been taking place. I really didn't expect to find them. What's so funny?"
"Oh, it just sounds like the same problem that a village far east of here was having two months or so ago. They were never caught, but I could guess that these were the men. It sure sounds like the same group."
"Where exactly are you heading from?"
"East, past the Torvana Mountains. Morrigan, when you say 'my men' do you mean...?"
"My men, yes. I am the constable of the village. Does that surprise you?" she arched an eyebrow as she waited for the answer.
"Yes."
"I appreciate honesty," she said, smiling; "Now I better go and collect those bodies. I hope you enjoy your stay in Grenfall."
"Morrigan, if your men were planning to ambush us when we tried to leave here would that mean you're in on it?"
Morrigan fixed him with a narrow stare, a skeptical look on her face, "Why would my men want to ambush you? Is there something you’re not telling me about yourself? Are you some kind of criminal?"
"Someone is after us. Someone that has a lot of sway when it comes to influencing people. I need to get those children to Cromley Tower. A lot depends on it. I have reason to believe that your men will attack us when we try to leave here. I need to know if you can help us."
"We will see if what you say is true when you try to leave. Until that time I have bodies to gather. I hope that you are wrong, Cameron."
"So do I," he replied as Morrigan stepped back into the rain fall. He watched her through the large side window of the eatery until he could see her no more then stepped through the door into the dining room. Damien had led the children to a corner of the room where the hearth of the fire cast a warming glow over the room. He weaved around the few tables that barred his path and found a seat close to the wall, where he could see the door.
"Kamil tells me that he suffered injury in that battle, Cameron. As did Benmont," Damien informed him, his tone deep with concern.
"I know you want to protect them, father. But they aren't little children. They discovered battle and won. I say that makes them one step closer to adult, wouldn't you?"
"For learning how to kill?"
"For learning how to survive," Cameron shot back, "Their wounds aren't serious. I've suffered a lot worse in my time. I dare say that they're learning well. Even you Kamil."
"Cameron, who was that woman?" Kirstin asked politely.
"Her name is Morrigan. She's the constable of the village."
"You didn't tell us that!" Kamil exclaimed, "She could be going to get her men right now!" Kamil stood up and Cameron grabbed his wrist with a hand, bringing him back to his seat roughly.
"You'll sit and eat and get dry. If something happens we'll deal with it. Until then, we've had a long morning, so we may as well get something in our stomachs."
"I'm not feeling so well. I don't know if I can eat," Kirstin admitted, feeling her stomach churning with nerves. Ferrin patted her on the back and pulled a coin from behind her ear, making her smile at him and rustle his hair. Ferrin beamed and cupped a hand right beside her ear. From the cupped hand he pulled out a long leather belt, making her start.
"Ferrin! How in the world did you do that?"
Ferrin smiled sheepishly and swung the belt over his shoulder, breathing on his fist and rubbing it on his shirt. Benmont suddenly growled, looking down at his waist and realizing that his belt was gone. He snatched the length of leather from Ferrin and swung it about his waist, turning a shade of red as Kamil and Kirstin chuckled. Ferrin shrugged, casting Benmont an innocent look.
"Leave my things alone. I told you that I don't like your humor."
Whatever you say. At least they got one part of your name right, Grim. Ferrin signed. Damien sighed and shook his head. Cameron smiled and leaned back, abstaining from the conversation.
"Now what did he say?" Benmont demanded. Knowing better then to try arguing point, Damien translated roughly. Benmont glowered as Kamil snickered at the name Ferrin came up for him.
"Grim sounds appropriate," he laughed as Benmont clenched his jaw shut.
"Your food, masters, mistress," came the voice of the waitress from behind them. She set down several trays of steaming meats and vegetables along with bread and juice to whet their palate. Everyone ate their fill, with Benmont eating enough for three people. Kirstin discovered that she was hungry after all and ate her fill, too. Cameron paid the maid in gold when she came back, throwing two silvers in for her tip. She was quick to pocket them, bidding them a very good day.
They were gathering their things from by the fire where they had been drying them out when Cameron patted the father on the shoulder. He pulled the priest around to show him the trio of garrison that just came in from the front. They were fully armored with blades at their sides and carrying shields. It seemed as if they were looking for someone. One of the armored men pointed toward their party and they started closer.
"It looks like our day just got a lot more complicated."
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