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Creed turned back to Damien and Kirstin, "Would you ride along in my coach? I would be happy to have the lot of you as guests for the night, if you do not have any urgent business in the city, that is."
"I have to find the nearest church, Lord Soames," Damien told him, "So that I might send word to Diez, though I fear that my message will not reach there before Benmont and Ferrin dock there. I fear for Benmont. His heart is filled with grief and rage. With no one to support him, he may attempt something rash."
"I might have a better way, father. I know of a man, a priest in this city that has a special power. If you would allow me, I may lead you to him, if this message really must be delivered swiftly."
"Thank you very much, my Lord," Damien replied curtly as he helped Kirstin onto the coach's step. Kamil helped Cameron onto the coach, pushing with his shoulder to make the warrior stumble into it. Klem waited patiently for his Lord's word before climbing into the coach after Kamil stepped inside. When the door was closed Creed called to the coach rider to take them to the center of the city and the Hall of Wisdoms.
"Hall of Wisdoms?" Damien pondered the words as he rubbed his shaven chin. When he realized what he was doing he pulled his hand away and leaned farther back against the side of the coach.
"It is one of the oldest buildings in the city, housing the knowledge of the One. There is a library, second largest in the northern lands only to Avalon itself. There is also an ancient manuscript displayed there. Scholars say that it is material that dates almost eight hundred years back, making it as old as the first dating of the oldest known edition of the Testament. The man we seek is there. His name is San Deviol. The man is ancient; he was old when I came to live here. Rumor has it that he doesn't hail from Umbriel but came here around the turn of the century from the frozen lands in the south."
"Another land?" Kamil leapt into the conversation, his interest peaked, "How far away is this frozen land? Are there boats that travel there?"
"Indeed there are, young master Dravan. The waters just beyond those lands are where most of our fishing industry comes from. But the land is harsh and unforgiving, the wind even more so. It is a dangerous foe to face for those that know not what they are heading into."
"What are you thinking, Kamil? Moving off of Umbriel?" Kirstin asked. Kamil clamped his jaw shut and craned to face her. She waited for his response, tapping the tip of her finger to her cheek.
"If it gets me away from this madness, why not? All I want is to live a relatively normal life, like the kind that I left behind in Hamla. The kind that I could have led with Sara if it weren't for me being a bastard."
"Kamil!" Damien barked at him. Kamil turned to face him coolly. The two stared at each other levelly for a time, no words shared. Damien could see changes in Kamil, in his attitude, and in his appearance. He had dark bags under his eyes and was gaunt, almost haunted looking. But there was rigidness in him, not like the stubborn streak that Cameron had discovered when he first began to train the three with the blade. It was almost as if Kamil were slowly becoming another person. Damien let the stern look on his face fade, hoping that Kamil would drop his guard. It didn't happen.
"You would do well to watch how you speak, Kamil. At the least, there is a lady present. And you are in the company of Lord Soames."
"The last nobleman that I was near tried to kill me. Why in the world would I want to be civil with another? So he can keep me near him until he decides just what the best way is to use us?"
"You know that not all men are like that. Baron Cromley had great ambitions. In the end that ambition was his undoing. That is the ultimate end for all that tamper with others lives the way that Avernus Cromley did. You can trust Creed Soames. He is a good man, despite what you may think of him."
"If you say so, father," Kamil replied in an emotionless tone. He shifted his gaze out the window, folding his arms over his chest and fingering the hilt of his sword with and open hand.
"What is this place, Lord Soames?" Kirstin questioned as she stared out the window. Creed smiled broadly as he looked out from where he was sitting.
"Ah," he began, "We are at the Hall of Wisdoms." Kirstin gasped as the coach rode over a wide wooden bridge, one of four that traversed a gap better than a hundred feet in width. Below was a waterfall that spilled out from aqueducts in a hexagonal pattern, eight flows of draining water that filled a clear water pool that flowed under the Hall of Wisdoms. The ground where the hall was built upon was supported by towering stone columns that broke free of the waters churning surface and kept the land aloft. The Hall itself was a trio of spiraling towers that were part of one another, raising better then two hundred feet into the air, making the peaks of the Hall visible from all points in the city. A front cobblestone lot in front of the Hall of Wisdoms was where the horse drawn coach pulled to a stop, and the coach man opened the door, placing a stool for them to step onto.
Creed led them all into the Hall of Wisdoms, through two great wooden doors that led into a long, broad hall. The hall was filled with large, old paintings depicting various priests that had made the hall their home through the centuries and holy conquests partaken in the name of the One God. The main hall seemed to branch into a dozen smaller halls that would lead to places of prayer and solitude. At the end of the main hall there was another set of doors, made from bronze and marked with the Komin, symbol of the One. Beyond the doors was the library, an immense room with a lattice of stairs wrapping around the edges of the room, making their way along the seemingly endless rows off books and tomes of knowledge. Work tables were placed on the main floor with lanterns on them for readings that went far into the night. Shutters were open on windows on the back part of the room where rays of sunlight lit the entire chamber. At one of the tables sat an old man, a man that could have been mistaken for a scholar if it were not for the Komin hanging from his neck on a plain iron chain. He was indeed old, with tufts of shock white hair on the sides of his head, his skin pulled impossible tight against the bones underneath. Robes of plain brown hung from his frail form and he sported a pair of spectacles that were barely hanging from his narrow bridged nose. The elderly man seemed to sense that people had entered the library and turned to greet them.
"Hello, Creed Soames. I trust that all went well on your visit to Twin Port?" He motioned the lot of them in with the wave of a hand, a hand that looked like it might fall off his arm if he waved it too fast. "I see that you brought a holy man with you. It is always good to see another man of the faith in the Hall of Wisdoms. I trust that this is your first time in our fair city? I judge that it is by the look on your face." Damien blushed and tried to quit looking at the amount of knowledge that surrounded him. "Ah, and a young lady. How do you do, my dear? I am San Deviol, high priest of the Hall. I am pleased to meet you." The old man paused in his speech, casting a stern, worried gaze to Kamil before telling them to take seats at his table.
"My trip was quite brief, father," Creed told him as he sat opposite the old priest, "It seems there is quite a bit of turmoil in the south with the war. Southcross has fallen to Dagoth and it appears that King Darius's forces have taken control of Twin Port as well."
"This is terrible news," San shook his head. He closed the book he was thumbing through before turning his attention to Damien. "You have something you need of me, father?"
"I do, father Deviol. My name is Damien Alohm and I need to send word to companions of mine in Diez. I need to send it swiftly, so that they might meet up with us in Shiemin. Lord Soames said that you have a power that would allow us to do this more swiftly then any courier could."
"It is not my power, father Alohm, but the One's. I will beseech him to use it for you. With it you will be able to speak with these companions when they are sleeping. You will appear to them in their sleep when next they do and really the message. Is there something wrong, father Alohm?"
"The priest has problems with his dreams, "Cameron added in, "That's why were in the north lands in the first place. The father had a dream, where he came here to help someone. He doesn't like to talk about it, though."
"A dream?" San exclaimed, making Damien uneasy, "Is that so?"
"It is," Damien replied.
San gave him a considering look before continuing, "I will take you right now, and when it is night and these companions sleep you will come to them and tell them of your plans. Are you ready?"
"I suppose that I am," Damien replied, looking to Creed questioningly. The Lord Soames only shrugged and looked back at high priest.
Closing his eyes, San Began to pray to the One God, "In the name of the One God who watches over me and gives me meaning, I beseech you in your great strength that you might send word to Damien Alohm's companions who are far from here. With your divine guidance may I bring word to these souls so that they might continue your work in earnest. I thank you, my God. Amen." The effect after the prayer caught Damien unaware, as the library melted away like tallow from a candle and there he was on a ship, much like the sailing vessel that had brought him to Bastual, only larger, with rooms that didn't feel quite so cramped. The high priest San was standing near him, hands folded in a supplicating prayer to the One. Damien, though disoriented, joined him in that prayer, praising the One for his aid.
"There is the young man that you seek, father. All you need do is speak with him. He will not know that I am here. I am invisible to all but you."
Benmont Grimnight lay there, on his cot, a blanket half on him. He was bare chested, his muscular form glistening as he rolled about restlessly. Damien was pleased to know that he wasn't the only one that suffered from nightmares these days. He approached the cot, stopping only when he was a few feet away.
"Benmont, hear me," Damien called out. The big youth gave no response.
"Benmont!" he cried out with more force. Still he received nothing. Damien cast San a pleading look, then turned back to face Benmont. The youth was sleeping hard. Perhaps ocean travel didn't treat him so well. He could almost see Ferrin wreaking havoc aboard the ship with Benmont seasick. He prayed that the crew of the ship didn't throw him overboard or anything else as drastic. Damien gathered his wits and called out to the sleeping youth one last time.
"Grim!"
Benmont was up in an instant, face beaming with sweat from the heat of the cabin, one hand wrapped around the blanket like he was going to use it as a weapon. "Verion, if this is another....Father?" Benmont staggered back, as if he were stricken with something, and he groped for a quarter staff that rested on the back wall near his cot. "What is going on here? Am I dreaming?!"
"You are, Benmont," Damien told him, "I have come to you to tell you that I am heading to the village of Shiemin, west of Avalon. Cameron, Kirstin and Kamil will be with me. This is where I want you and Ferrin to head the moment that you dock in Diez. I am sure that Verion will guide you there, if he still feels obligated to."
"No!" Benmont cried out, hurling the blanket at Damien as he took up the quarter staff in both hands. Damien reflexively went to swipe the blanket away with a hand but it passed right through him like it wasn't there. Or he wasn't there. Benmont looked enraged, shaking the staff at the priest as he circled him. Damien maintained his composure, sure in the knowledge that Benmont couldn't harm him.
"Am I not to find peace even in my dreams? Why do I continue to be plagued by ghosts? Is my mother not enough?"
"You must remember this message, Benmont. The power of the One brought me here. You must believe me. We are heading to Shiemin. Meet us there so that we may continue together. I will need your strength, Benmont. Please."
Benmont lowered his staff, confusion plain on him. Damien stepped toward him when he suddenly felt himself being drug away from the ship. Rather the ship was removed from under him, far and fast until it was nothing more than a mote of light on the water. Damien was still moving, San with him, speeding through air and dream faster than his mind could conceive. Then there was a swift stop, one that made his heart and stomach lurch in his body. There was nothing around him, nothing solid, only dark colors that flowed on currents of air that couldn't be felt on his skin. Still, there was a cold around him, a prickling of the flesh that made him feel small and vulnerable.
"Something unholy comes!" San screamed as he began a prayer to the One, asking his God to bring them out of the dream and back into the confines of the library where their bodies awaited them. A crack of burning energy flashed in the dark, splitting the flows of black and finding its way into San Deviol's back. The high priest let loose a blood curdling scream and fell forward, crumpling into a heap in mid air, motionless. Damien couldn't tell if the old man was dead or not.
"Father Deviol!" Damien cried out as he raced toward the man, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt fear like he had never known in this strange place. What could have summoned him to this place? Where did that ray of energy come from? Damien stopped pondering when he realized that he wasn't getting anywhere. The span between him and San remained unchanged. Gritting his teeth, Damien leapt forward; hoping that jumping would cover the distance that running would not. He was rewarded by a long fall through a void that seemed to bring him right back to the same place he had been standing. The landing was rough, leaving him breathless.
Laughter suddenly wafted to his ears. A cold voice behind him warned him of another in this wretched void. Damien, still kneeling from his fall, turned to the sound of the voice and his breath caught in his voice.
Death stood behind him: a figure in robes black as a moonless night that covered all of their body, with a cowl that draped over his head. The figure was no taller than Damien, shorter, even, but there was a malevolence in that laugh that made the priest's heart grow cold. The black figure made no move for him.
"Who are you?" Damien questioned, feeling small in the presence of this evil figure. It had to be evil, this man. He could almost feel the nature of him ebbing from his body. The figure stopped laughing, the amusement fading from the voice.
"I am a power beyond that which you possess. You may know me as MoonDark. You may address me as master." The tone of amusement came back, stronger than before. Damien gathered his courage, refusing to allow this man to make him cower. If he was strong enough to strike father San when the old priest told Damien that he couldn't be seen, much less struck, then he would have little problem defeating him. There was no need to fear death. He spent his life in the service of the One. If the One God would claim his life now, then he was ready to accept that.
"I will not give you the privilege, wizard. That is what you are, is it not?"
"I am the mouth piece for a force that your pathetic mind could not hope to understand. He will be master of this world, as he was in the past. Unless your champion can halt him. Do you think he has a chance?"
"Are you speaking of Darius Steelbreeze?"
"You are dense, man of the faith. I will give you that. I was too late to halt you from giving that message to the child. But there may be no more need for you. Death in this realm will be the death of your body, priest. Are you ready to see if that faith you hold so dear is a reality, or only a well maintained lie to give the frail and feeble security for when they die?"
"You blaspheme with disgusting ease, wizard," Damien spat out, "I will pray that the One God will have pity on your soul when your time comes."
"And who says that it will?" MoonDark replied, freeing his arms from the sleeves as he flung them out, words of magic forming on his lips. Damien froze for an instant, listening to the strange, archaic phrases the wizard was invoking. The skin on his arms prickled as MoonDark cupped his hands as if he were catching water to drink. Then, in the blink of an eye, there was water there. Water that glowed in with magical energy, crackling and sizzling as the wisps of hot white lightning played over the surface of the water. There was a feint hum in the air as MoonDark held it before him.
"I would explain the nature of the magic that I just invoked to you, but I haven't the time to waste on you, nor the patience. But I will not let that deter me from allowing you to witness the outcome of this magic firsthand." The wizard threw the handfuls of water at him and Damien watched in frozen terror as the liquid crackled and burned in the air, flying straight for him. He shook free of the paralysis, thinking as fast as he could.
My God, he prayed in his mind, please allow me to be behind this man so I might try to end this. This is all I would ask of you. Then he was moving. In an eye blink he was behind MoonDark and the spell missed him, spilling over empty air and rolling off into nothing. Damien reached out, wasting no word or action but to take hold of this man. Damien knew precious little of the saevant, but from what he did know they were not physically powerful people, none of their race was. The priest clamped down a hand on the sleeve of the wizard and was shocked to discover how wasted MoonDark was. There was little more than skin and bone to him, little muscle to guide the actions of one that seemed to wield such terrible magic. Damien spun him around, already asking for forgiveness for his actions in his mind as he balled up his fist and readied to punch MoonDark. When the saevant turned to face him, however, there was the head of a great snake there, eyes golden orbs with slits of pure black, tongue flicking in and out as it scented the air around it.
Damien gasped and let go. As soon as his hold was broken the wizard had an almost human face again, with pale flesh and a full head of long silver hair. A cruel smile played on his lips as he reached a hand out faster than the priest could react, taking hold of Damien's arm just above the elbow. There was a crack and flames burst out along his flesh, tearing free a scream from his throat.
"Know your folly, priest!" MoonDark screeched at him, "Go back to your flock and tell them what it is that they are up against! Tell them that the path you are choosing for them will end with death! How fitting that a man of the One God would be the one to usher it in! Go now!"
Then he was falling away from MoonDark, from the sky of darkness where the wizard had taken him. Sensations blurred as the melting of the library reformed itself and he was thrust back into his body, crying out and clutching the burn on his left arm as he shot straight up, nearly tipping the table over. San Deviol slumped forward in his chair and then spilled onto the floor without a sound. His eyes rolled back in his head. Frothing saliva spilled out from his mouth, pooling on the carpeted floor under his head.
Cameron shot up, his sobriety back fully, wrenching his sword free of the scabbard at his waist. Kamil was up almost as fast, hand on the hilt, eyes scanning the library, eager for battle. Creed was already on the floor checking on San as Kirstin shot up beside Damien, clearly shaken, but maintaining a hold on her unease.
"What happened father? Why did San just fall to the floor? Name of the One...! Your arm! How...?"
"Father Deviol! No!" Damien circled the table so fast that he nearly knocked Kirstin over, his face a mask of worry, "Please don't let this man die because I asked him for a favor! We cannot let him die!"
"He is lost," Creed informed Damien as the priest fell in beside him, "His heart has stopped beating."
"Cameron!" Damien looked up, panic trying to claim him, "Put that accursed sword away and help me! Do you know how to breathe life back into a man?"
"I do," Cameron replied, dropping the sword to the floor and scrambling on his knees until he was over the priest. Cameron pushed Creed away then lowered his head and began to push his own breath into the man.
"Deep God's alive!" Creed exclaimed, "What is he doing to that man?"
"He is trying to save him!" Damien replied hoarsely, "Some soldiers are taught to do such a thing if a man falls from shock or from strain. He means to restart his heart. I only pray that it is not too late."
"Why not heal him? Surely your healing abilities as a priest of the One God work better than this crude technique."
"Let the man work, Lord Soames. And join me in prayer so that San Deviol recovers." Creed bowed his head and Kirstin joined as Damien began to pray to the One. Kamil was last, watching panicked patrons of the library fleeing; no doubt for the militia, leaving the doors wide open as they exited the chamber. Sighing, Kamil closed his eyes as well. If they were going to get arrested for this, there was really nothing he could do about it.
Tense moments passed while Cameron pushed on the man's chest with one hand over the other in a rhythm as he counted to himself. Then it was back to pushing air into his mouth. On the third cycle there was a response. The old priest gagged and sucked in air with a ragged noise caught in his throat. San's eyes flickered open and he attempted to sit up but couldn't find the strength to do so. Creed stared in wide eyed astonishment at Cameron as Damien knelt over the old man.
"Rest now, father Deviol. You are weak from the attack," He turned his gaze up to the warrior who knelt across from him and shot him a warm smile. He held out his hand to Cameron who extended his own. Damien clasped it, and wrapped his other hand around it for good measure.
"I am in your debt, Cameron," Damien told him. "There are no words I know to express my gratitude to you. I thank you."
"My pleasure, father," Cameron replied coolly, "But if you want to thank me you can start by taking me as I am. Now you might begin to see that being a warrior isn't all death and killing. That's just the bulk of it."
Damien laughed at him, feeling tension fade with that laughter as the others joined him. Damien had his travel coat off and tucked gently under the elderly priest's head when the militia entered. They carried shining body shields and long hafted spears with slim blades. There were half a dozen of the men. They looked grimly at the scene of San Deviol lying at the feet of two men and a woman with blades at their sides. Visors and spears were lowered as the militia moved toward them.
It didn't take long to clear matters up with both Lord Soames and the high priest of the Hall of Wisdoms speaking in their defense. The militia members allowed them to go in the company of Lord Soames, who was told to watch over them. One of the men returned to the sheriff’s house to ready a search for the saevant that Damien described to them. The priest knew that he wouldn't be found, however. Almost as easily as he knew that he would certainly meet the strange wizard once more.
A short coach ride through the streets of Bastual brought them to Creed's sprawling manor on the western end of the city, as far from the docks as it could be. The host of guards that were Creed's to command accompanied him past the front gates and through a lush garden that extended along either side of the main walk. The manor house was large, extending for nearly two hundred yards, and at least three stories high. Creed explained as they walked through the garden that the manor hosted some of his family. His parents lived in the east wing, and his cousin also had a part to the manor, though he was seldom home. He was a travelling merchant that spent most of his time on the road pedaling wares. But with the coming of winter Creed felt certain that he would return soon.
The inside of the house was lavish, with well lit, carpeted halls and broad walled rooms filled with all manner of tapestry and artwork. Servants showed them to the rooms where they might spend the night and Creed told them that he would supply them with mounts for the morning. Until then they would dine with him. Kirstin found her way back out to the gardens that afternoon, wandering the paths of stone that weaved around plants and flowers that she knew and many that were unfamiliar to her. She occasionally crossed a gardener, whom she greeted politely. It was only proper to show her respects, after all. In the back of the manor, surrounded from all sides by walls of living green was a courtyard of cobblestone with an ancient fountain standing at its center. There was a cracked statue at the top of the rounded fountain, that of a child, his hand held out in offering, a devilish smile painted on his face. From the child's hand spewed water that trickled along his sides until it pooled at the bottom of the fountain. Kirstin left her meanderings and stopped to sit there, staring into the pool of water. She was still shaken by what happened in the library, but for once Damien wasn't there to talk to. The priest was even more shaken then she, with a hideous burn covering much of his left arm to show for visiting Benmont while the youth slept. Had Benmont done that? She knew that he had a fierce temper, but would he attack Damien for merely finding him in a dream state? She hoped not. Gathering her feelings, she began to pray to the One for guidance. The sound of another approaching her caused her to lift her head from prayer. She half expected Damien to be standing there, ready to council her through her troubles. Or Cameron, extending a sword and telling her it was time for practice. Instead it was neither of the men.
"Kamil," she stated, feeling mild surprise at finding him in the gardens with her. "How are you?"
"Aside from the fact that we nearly were arrested in the Hall of Wisdoms, I'm fine."
"Must you always be so cynical, Kamil?"
"I don't know. Must you always be so serious about everything?"
"I am not serious about everything!" Kirstin exclaimed to him, lowering her voice when she realized that she nearly shouted it at him. Kamil smiled and took a seat at the side of the fountain with her.
"Then why are you so defensive?"
"Why do you feel that you must avoid responsibility, then? What was that talk in the coach about trekking to the frozen lands? Whatever happens to us we need to keep together and face it as such."
"Name of the One, Kirstin!" Kamil barked out as he pushed away from the fountain, "You're starting to sound just like the father! He finds time each day to harp on me about one matter or another. I had to hide in my cabin to avoid the man."
"You were avoiding him, Kamil?" Kirstin's tone was incredulous, "What has gotten into you? Just think of the journey that we've made thus far! Never in my wildest dreams did I think that fetching Cameron for my...father...would end like this! Didn't you used to tell Sara how you used to want to travel the land? To come north like we are now?"
"Don't speak about Sara!" Kamil shouted at her, balling up fists that he shook in her direction. Kirstin leaned back, readying herself to move if he chose to lunge at her. Realizing what she was just thinking she made herself be calm. First she was wondering if Benmont had attacked the father, now she was getting ready to defend against Kamil?
"I am sorry, Kamil."
"As am I, Kirstin," he said, letting his hands fall to his waist, "I cannot think of her yet. It hasn't been long enough. I sometimes wonder how you can seem so strong after the loss of your brother. I know that Sara and I weren't as close as you and Huros were, and I wonder how you manage to keep from weeping sometimes, when those thoughts come to visit you in the night. Do you know what I mean?"
"I know," Kirstin replied, closing her eyes as pain jabbed into her chest. Thinking of Huros, of the sacrifice he made for her, were all still fresh in her mind. As were Devlin Telba's sharp words that night. Her world fell apart that night. She could vaguely recollect sitting in her room, clutching to one of the many dolls that adorned the shelves in it, watching as Ferrin tried his best to coax a smile to her lips with his antics. How much she appreciated that she never told him. She would have to.
"Kirstin? Are you listening to me?"
She shook her head quickly before looking back up at Kamil. He was standing farther back in the courtyard, a wooden practice blade in either hand. He smiled at her when she began to blush.
"Sorry to distract you, Kirstin. Would you like to try your luck? Cameron's just a touch busy talking with the priest at the moment so I guess that we can sharpen our skills on each other. How about it?"
Kirstin rose from the fountain and neared him. Kamil tossed the wooden sword to her and she caught it hilt first, twisting it with her wrist until she leveled the edge at him. Kamil craned his neck in both directions, loosening his shoulder muscles before stepping right and began to pace her.
"I'm going out tonight," Kamil told her as he continued to stalk around the courtyard, putting the fountain between him and Kirstin. "I thought I'd let you know in case we need to flee the city in the dead of the night or anything like that."
"More of your cynicism."
"I'll be back to the manor before midnight. At least I'll try to be. I suppose I'll need some sleep if we plan on making haste to Shiemin. Klem tells me that it's going to at least a fort night's travel on horseback."
"Are you going out with Klem tonight?"
Kamil leapt toward her and locked swords, twisting down hard and spinning both hers and his own blade low. Kirstin saw his tactic and leapt up, letting the sword pass under her before dropping back down and thrusting back. Kamil lost his balance and tottered a few feet, fending off one of her attacks before recovering. With a determined grimace on his face he lowered his blade before him.
"Is it Klem that you are going with? Doesn't he have to go back out to sea?"
"He has a few days of shore leave. He says he knows a tavern that he frequents. He tells me that there's gambling there. I want to see it for myself."
"Gambling?" Kirstin said dubiously, "Are you sure that it's wise to go?" Kamil only gave her an irritated snort before lunging back in and slashing twice. Kirstin side stepped the first blow and let the second glance off her sword. She spun around him on her heel until his back was exposed and she stroked straight in for his waistline. Kamil grunted as he twisted and pushed back, slapping the stroke away and following through with a thrust. Kirstin caught the thrust by turning it astray, locking the practice swords on her right.
"Kamil, will Maria be at this tavern?"
"Maria? You mean Maria Murough? Don't be daft, Kirstin. We met her in Casteel. I don't really think that she's followed us all the way to Bastual just to see me." Despite those words Kirstin noticed him tense at the mention of her name.
"I won't stop you, Kamil. Just watch yourself."
With that she twisted fast with both hands, taking the sword clean from his hands. The wooden sword flew through the air, coming down with a light splash in the center of the fountain, sinking clean to the bottom. Kirstin rested her sword on Kamil's shoulder as he raised an eyebrow to the fountain, running a hand through his hair.
"I win," she told him.
Cameron let the curtain fall back over the window that looked over the courtyard, a smirk on his lips. He lifted the cup of dark leaf tea that Creed Soames offered him and drank from it. Grimacing, but forcing the bitter liquid down, he turned his attention back to the table where Damien, Klem and Creed sat. The lord of the manor sat across the table, listening to all of the events that transpired in the library. Acolytes from the Hall told him that San Deviol would make a recovery, but was fortunate that Cameron was there to help him along.
"I confess that your tale is quite bizarre, father," Creed ventured, leaning back on his chair and taking a sip from his tea. He made no such grimace. Dark leaf tea was a popular drink in the courts of the north lands, but it was rarely found south of the Crossing. "I make no attempt to understand the ways of the holy man, though."
"As do I not attempt to understand what my God shows to me. All I know is that I must trek north, and from the dream that reoccurs, I know it will be a perilous journey. I feel better knowing that Benmont has heard me. I only hope he has sense enough to follow my advice and head north."
"We all do what we must, father," Cameron said from where he stood by the window. He glanced back out but Kirstin was gone. Kamil was knee deep in the center of the fountain, fishing for his practice sword. It served him right for not being present for so many of the lessons.
"I cannot accept that, Cameron. We took it upon ourselves to watch over Benmont Grimnight and that is what I intend to do. You have come this far with us; will you travel north as well?"
"That depends," Cameron said, placing his tea cup on the window sill before stepping further into the room, "Do you plan on passing the northern mountains?"
"Canvesse Mountains?" Creed declared, nearly spitting up the tea he just drank. "Father, you cannot think of going there! I was a knight in the Eagle's army for nearly seven years, defending the land from the Ageless. They are terrible warriors, fierce and bloodthirsty. They would not hesitate to kill a man of faith."
"Men that defend their homeland often are savage, Lord Soames."
"I'll come with, father," Cameron told him, "If only to save you from yourself."
"The One bless you, Cameron. I know that something good will come of this."
"I have fresh mounts for you, the best riding horses I could find from the stalls in the market place. I will supply you with coin as well. It is my understanding that you lost all the gold that had in Twin Port."
"Who told you that?" Damien asked, and then craned his neck to look at Cameron.
The warrior shrugged, "We need the funding, father. Or do you think that we can travel all over the land without any coin in our pockets?"
"I suppose not," Damien sighed. "Your help would be greatly appreciated, Lord Soames, though I fear that we have asked so much of you already."
"It is my pleasure, father. I admit that when you first asked for passage on my ship I felt reluctance. No sane man wants to sting one of the mightiest powers on all of Umbriel without having good reason to. But the longer I stayed in your company, the more I realized that you have a good reason, perhaps the best one of all, right with you. So I will do all in my power to aid you. It is the very least I can do."
Damien nodded, breathing in deeply and Cameron shook his head, a sardonic smile on his face. "Thank you, Lord Soames. I think that all I will need now is a good night's rest for the morning. How about you, Cameron?"
"Thank you, but no. I think I'll find a tavern to relax in."
"Didn't you do enough of that on the ship?" Damien demanded.
"I won't get fall down drunk, father. I just need space, time to myself. And a place to think that's comfortable for me. I will meet you downstairs in the morning, you can count on that." Without another word Cameron left the room, closing the door behind him. Damien turned back to Creed, his hand rubbing his bare chin. The priest was beginning to think that shaving his face was a mistake. He missed the well trimmed beard that had been there.
"Come, father," Creed said as he pushed his chair back and stood, "I am sure that dinner is ready."
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