by J B Drake
“I see,” Baern muttered as his brows furrowed deeper.
“You see…?” Mardaley said as he turned to stare at his friend square, his voice almost a growl.
Baern shrugged. “What else can I say.”
“You don’t sound the least bit surprised, Baern.”
The elderly Magister grinned. “Ah.”
“Ah…?”
“I suppose I had a suspicion she’d do something like this.”
Mardaley’s face darkened at this. “You had a suspicion?”
“Yes,” Baern replied with a sheepish smile.
“And you didn’t see fit to tell me?”
Sighing, Baern shook his head.
“Listen, Mardaley—” he began
“Do you not see the importance of their journey?”
“I do, Mardaley, truly I do.”
“Then why in the world would you vouch for someone we cannot trust implicitly to see it done?”
“Oh, but we can.”
“We can?” Mardaley said as he sat tall. “Baern, she’s disappeared!”
Once more, Baern shook his head. “She’s stayed the course, Mardaley, I’ll stake my life on it!”
“Then, where is she?”
“Making her own way to Kirsk.”
“Her own way?” Mardaley exclaimed.
Once again, Baern nodded. “Do not think ill of her, Mardaley, please. She’s staying the course, she’s just—”
“What in the world’s possessed her to drift from the route we agreed.”
Baern smiled. “Because it’s your route.”
Mardaley blinked. “That makes no sense.”
“Anise is…how shall I put this…”
“Try truthfully,” Mardaley sneered.
Baern’s smile grew. “She doesn’t trust you, Mardaley.”
“What in the bloody—”
“For someone like Anise, when it comes to all things arcane, no being can compare to us elves. In her mind, we elves are simply the most proficient and most skilled of all sentient races, save dragons. But you, Mardaley, your little show in your house the other day showed her a command of the arcane that surpasses a great many of the elves she knows, and, unlike Maline, rather than such a show earning her respect and reverence, you’ve earned her mistrust. If you have such a command, you can’t possibly be human. And if you’re not human, nothing you do or say can be trusted.”
“And you didn’t think to warn me?” Mardaley bellowed, earning him more than a few curious glances.
“I was rather hoping she’d grown out of such thinking by now,” Baern replied in a much softer tone, “but clearly I was wrong. Nevertheless, you needn’t worry. You didn’t ask her on this course, remember? She chose to go. And she chose to go on account of a debt of loyalty she feels she owes me, and that debt will see her on the right path.”
Mardaley stared hard at his friend for a spell.
“I hope you’re right, Baern.”
Baern smiled. “I know I am.”
“I hope so,” Mardaley repeated, “for this goes beyond Tien’razul. If any harm comes to Marshalla, I don’t know—”
The Magister’s face darkened at this. “We have greater issues before us than that girl, Mardaley. You’re losing sight of what’s important here.”
Mardaley frowned at his friend. “I’m losing sight of what’s important? Baern, truly? Have you forgotten whose daughter she is? Do you no longer think that important?”
Baern sighed. “Of course I still think it important, but Naeve still has a good few decades left in her, and the issue at hand could see the end of us in half that time.”
Mardaley’s gaze upon his friend froze the air between the men.
“Anise will stay the course, Mardaley,” Baern said after a spell. “You needn’t worry.”
Nodding, Mardaley turned to stare at the fountain once more. As for Baern, the elderly Magister rose, a guilty smile upon his lips, and after staring at his friend a moment longer, he turned and made his way out of the Gardens.
Huffing, Marshalla dropped the bundle of dry sticks in her hand upon the pile before her, then began stomping the snow off her boots, thick flakes falling upon the glistening grass beneath her feet.
“All I’m saying is,” she said as she stared at Anise, who was weaving a spell of concealment about them, “I’m not naïve enough to think you Tower mages are perfect. They were a threat, plain and simple, you needn’t—”
“Oh, for the love of the gods!” Anise exclaimed, spinning to stare square at Marshalla as her spell spluttered to nothing. “How many times must I say it? I didn’t kill them!”
“Well, then, who did?”
“I don’t know, alright? And truthfully, I don’t care. They’re dead, we’re not. Much as I’d love to know who killed them, that knowledge isn’t going to help us get to Kirsk, now, is it?”
“What knowledge?” came a third voice as an azure apparition swam into view. “Who did you kill?”
“Ugh!” Anise bellowed before turning to cast her concealment spell anew.
“Very well, then, who did you not kill?” Anieszirel asked, casting her gaze about her.
“And this isn’t the Crooked Crozier,” she added as a deep frown twisted her lips.
In response, Marshalla stared at Anise, one eyebrow raised.
Following her gaze, Anieszirel turned to the Archmage just as Marshalla turned to see to the horses.
“Anise, what did you do?” the chronodragon asked.
Rather than reply, the Archmage raised a finger, her brow furrowed and her eyes closed as words of arcane tumbled from her lips.
“Anise…”
Shaking her head, Anise kept her eyes closed as she finished her spell.
With a sigh, the chronodragon shook her head, and whispering arcane words herself, she cast a concealment spell of her own.
“Hey!” Anise exclaimed as she turned to glare at Anieszirel the moment the chronodragon’s spell took hold.
The chronodragon smiled at her sweetly.
“I was almost finished!”
“Why aren’t we at the Crooked Crozier?” Anieszirel asked in response.
Rolling her eyes, the Archmage wandered over to the pile of sticks.
“Anise…?”
“We’re not going to the Crooked Crozier, alright?” Anise replied as she arranged the sticks.
“We didn’t even go to Waterdeep,” Marshalla muttered, earning herself a heated glare from the woman kneeling by the sticks.
“What?” Anieszirel exclaimed. “Why?”
“Because I know a better way,” Anise replied as she selected sticks for a camp fire.
“A better way that meant we had to run for our lives,” Marshalla muttered.
“Yes, well, that’s quite enough from you,” Anise snapped.
“Alright, you’re going to have to explain—” Anieszirel began.
“There’s nothing to explain. We didn’t go to Waterdeep, we went a different route. This route takes us right onto the caravan routes—”
“So would going to Waterdeep.”
“Would you stop talking about Waterdeep?”
“And what about the supplies Drake had for us? And what about Gray? That cat is going to be beside herself by now.”
Anise sighed. “Gray will be fine, she’s with Kasha, remember? And we don’t need the supplies. Once we join a caravan, we can barter for anything we need.”
“So…you chose bartering for your supplies over being given them freely?”
Anise’s response was a cold, heart-felt glare.
Biting back a smile, the chronodragon nodded and made her way towards Marshalla, and soon silence fell upon the camp as all three worked, till at last, the time came when the horses were cared for, the campfire lit, and supper was slowly cooking upon it.
“Ah,” Anieszirel sighed as she sat by the warming fire. “I’d quite forgotten what this felt like.”
“What do you mean?” Anise frowned
as she stirred the pot upon the fire. “You can’t feel anything in your astral form.”
“You forget, my dear, I’m anchored to Marshalla.”
“So?”
Anieszirel smiled. “There you go again with your non-existent wisdom. It’s so adorable.”
“What did you say?” Anise snarled.
“Must we fight?” Marshalla sighed as she appeared with a pallet under each arm. “This journey will be difficult enough as is.”
Anieszirel turned to the young girl as the sweetest smile she could muster parted her lips.
“Oh, I wasn’t picking a fight, my dear,” she said, “merely making an observation.”
“Ani…”
“What? Oh, very well.” She sighed, then turned to Anise. “My apologies, I spoke out of turn.”
The chronodragon’s words sounded sincere, and yet the smirk upon her lips told a different tale.
Anise stared at the smirking apparition for a spell, before smiling herself. “Oh, it’s quite alright…Kin-Slayer.”
All at once, the smirk dissipated from Anieszirel’s lips.
“Give me strength,” Marshalla muttered before storming off to lay the pallets.
As she left, both women glared at each other a spell, then Anieszirel spoke up once more.
“You still haven’t said how this new route of yours will get us to Kirsk.”
“It’s quite simple,” Anise replied. “We’re near the caravan trail that runs from Ieran to Kirsk. Barrow is the first stop on that trail—”
“Barrow,” Anieszirel frowned. “That’s the name of the town you came from?”
Anise nodded. “Yes. It’s a bit of a shite-hole of a town, I admit—”
“A bit?” Marshalla muttered loud enough to be heard.
“Alright! Alright! I admit going to Barrow was a mistake. There, I said it! But in my defence, it’s been about a decade since I’ve been there myself, and it was a much better town back then. And besides, and I’d rather have braved Barrow than let your friend Mardaley lead me by the nose anywhere.”
“What’s wrong with Mardaley?” Anieszirel asked.
“Anise doesn’t trust him,” Marshalla replied before Anise could draw breath. “She thinks he’s some demon-spawn come to end us all, or some such nonsense.”
Anieszirel shrugged. “Well, perhaps not demon-spawn, but I can understand how she feels.”
“You what?” Marshalla exclaimed as she stopped to levy a heated glare at the chronodragon.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that! That human knows a great deal about things he shouldn’t. He knows things no mortal alive is capable of knowing.”
Marshalla frowned at this. “What things?”
“Uh…” the chronodragon began, but managed little else.
“What things, Ani?” Marshalla repeated.
“Arcane things,” Anieszirel managed. “Some of his spells I haven’t seen cast in an age.”
“Truly?” Anise frowned.
Turning, Anieszirel nodded as she bit her lip.
“But we digress,” she added, ignoring Marshalla as the young girl’s eyes bored into her. “What’s so special about where we are?”
“There’s a caravan due to leave Barrow at noon for Kirsk. It’ll pass right by us. I secured passage with them already, and with luck, they will honour the agreement.”
“You secured passage?” Marshalla asked.
“Mhm,” Anise nodded, turning to her. “The coin you saw me give Tenya when you got our horses, that’s what it was for.”
“Ah,” Marshalla nodded.
“I see,” Anieszirel mused. “So, we sit here and wait for the caravan to roll past, stop them, join them and ride to Kirsk.”
“Precisely,”
“Eh.” The chronodragon shrugged. “I’ve heard worse plans.”
“Thank you…?” Anise said as she cast a sideways glance at the chronodragon.
Anieszirel smiled.
“I’m merely…” she began, then fell silent as she turned to stare into the darkness of the woods around them.
In the silence that followed, Marshalla and Anise shared a glance as they stared at the chronodragon.
“Ani, what is it?” Marshalla asked as she drew close to the chronodragon.
“We’re not alone,” the chronodragon muttered.
“What?” Anise and Marshalla whispered in unison before both turned to stare into the darkness, Anise’s hands going to the blades by her sides.
“I don’t hear anything,” Marshalla whispered
Anieszirel shook her head. “There’s something out there.”
“No,” Anise said after a spell, shaking her head. “The snow is thick around here. Only reason you see none in our camp is because I melted it all before you showed. There’s no way anything can move around in snow that thick and we not hear it. There’s nothing out there.”
“You wish to tell me…” the chronodragon began, then turned to the Anise.
As they stared at each other, an accord passed between the pair, and as the silence grew, the chronodragon turned to stare at Marshalla, the sight of the fear in the young elf’s eyes bringing a warm smile to her lips.
“Perhaps my time in the Tower has put me on edge,” she said as she turned back to Anise. “Seems I’m jumping at shadows now.”
Marshalla looked from Anieszirel to Anise and back again.
“You’re sure there’s nothing?” she said.
Anieszirel’s smile widened. “Anise is right. Anything comes near us, we’ll hear it coming. There’s nothing there now.”
Marshalla stared from one to the other once more.
“What say you both go bed down?” Anieszirel offered. “It’ll be daylight soon, you both need your rest.”
Smiling, Anise nodded. “That we do. Come, Marsha.”
But Marshalla remained unmoved, even as Anise pulled her by the shoulder.
“You’re sure?” she asked, her eyes upon the chronodragon as Anise pulled her to her pallet.
“Of course,” Anieszirel nodded. “And besides, I shall be standing guard.”
Nodding, Marshalla smiled at last, then made her way to her pallet.
“Good night, you two,” Marshalla said as she snuggled into her pallet.
“Dream well, Marsha,” Anise replied as she snuggled into hers.
Anieszirel, however, remained silent, her gaze upon the darkness once more.
Yawning, Marshalla squirmed as the last vestiges of sleep left her. The sun had only begun bathing their camp in its warm, welcoming light, but the air was already filled with the songs of the many woodland birds. Stretching, she sat up as she rubbed her eyes open.
“Up at last, I see,” Anieszirel said as she stared at Marshalla from the smouldering heap that was their camp fire.
“Didn’t you get any sleep?” she asked, frowning.
Anieszirel shook her head as she smiled. “I don’t need it, though I do indulge from time to time.”
Yawning once more, Marshalla nodded as she moved to stand. Then, she noticed Anise was still in her pallet.
“You may as well wake her,” Anieszirel said.
“Yeah,” Marshalla nodded as she knelt beside Anise, “else she’ll end up brooding the whole day.”
Snickering, the chronodragon rose and rekindled the fire as Marshalla shook the slumbering Archmage awake.
“Mmh,” Anise mumbled as she stretched.
“Good morning to you too,” Anieszirel replied.
A growl was Anise’s response.
“Not much of a morning person, I see,” Anieszirel muttered.
“Not so much, no,” Marshalla replied, a response that earned her a glare from the Archmage and a snicker from the chronodragon.
“The caravan hasn’t been past yet, I take it?” Anise said as she rose.
“No.” Anieszirel shook her head. “Although it would seem you made quite an impression in Barrow.”
“Oh?” Marshalla and Anise said in unison.
“Yes.” Anieszirel nodded. “Fourteen men rode past last night, armed for war. Rode past not too long after you both went to sleep. From the way they were riding, you’d think Hazuel was after their souls.”
Anise frowned as she shook her head. “That many men and horses, I would’ve woken up.”
Anieszirel smiled. “I put a sphere of protection around you both. You’re welcome.”
At this, Marshalla frowned.
“Why would we need a sphere of protection when we’re in a concealment sphere?” she asked.
Anieszirel shrugged. “Because I was feeling generous.”
But Marshalla’s frown remained.
“There was something out there last night,” she said, “wasn’t there?”
In response, Anieszirel looked at Anise.
“Wasn’t there?”
Sighing, the chronodragon turned back to Marshalla. “Yes.”
“Oh, come now!” Anise chided. “You can’t be sure—”
“But whatever it was,” Anieszirel continued, “it kept its distance. You were never in any true danger, Marsha, truly. The barrier was just a precaution.”
Marshalla’s frown deepened as she stared from the chronodragon to the Archmage and back again.
“I am not a child, alright?” she growled. “Stop treating me as if I was some mewling babe who needs to be succoured every waking moment. If there is something hunting us, I deserve to know.”
“There’s nothing hunting—”
“Not now, but there was last night! You should’ve said so!”
“We didn’t wish to frighten you,” Anise soothed.
“Bugger that, we’re in this thing together, the three of us! Three! Not two and a half!”
In unison, Anieszirel and Anise bit their lips as they fought to keep their snickers within.
“Well?”
“You’re right,” Anise replied as her smile broke free. “You’re absolutely right. Next time we’ll be more forthright.”
“That’s all I ask.”
Nodding, Anise turned to the chronodragon, only for her smile to fade.
“Those men that rode past, you’re sure they’re from Barrow?”
Anieszirel shrugged. “Any other towns around here?”
“Hrm,” Anise muttered.
“What is it?” Marshalla asked.
“If we come across them with the caravan,” Anise said, “things could get bloody.”
