by TP Keane
*
The fine mist, which hung in the morning air, bathed Ol?rin's face mercifully. With the heat he endured in Balbuldor, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be cool. Breathing the peaty air in deeply, Ol?rin let out a long sigh of relief.
"Ye'll have tae come and meet yer nephews and nieces," Bernard shouted all of a sudden.
Ol?rin glanced at Aramus, who looked as confused as he. The young man's eyes still shone dimly with Dantet's fire and his face still held a hue more pale than normal. But his appearance seemed less foreboding in the brown leather attire that the dwarfs had given him. Ol?rin too had forgone the usual Supreme Wizard robes in favour of something more colourful. Yes, purple with bright gold designs was the order of the day, and Ol?rin couldn't help but admire his long flowing robes as they billowed in the morning air.
"I cannae," Angus replied. "You know that I am bound tae the king."
"Beasties butt-cakes," Bernard scoffed. "Surely he doesnae need you tae wipe his arse fer him too. Ravina thinks ye dinnae like her, and the kids have never met ye, brother. What kind of king would want that fer a family, I ask ye?"
"It's more complicated than that, Bernard," Angus replied quietly.
"I know. But one day, one day is all I ask," Bernard said.
Ol?rin, feeling the third wheel in the conversation, took off his hat and began sorting out the contents into neatly ordered segments, ensuring that the chicken remained at the very bottom. He took out his staff and used it to pick his way over the uneven boulders, humming lightly as he went. But it was impossible not to overhear the two vociferous men as they spoke. Even the few birds that were resting in the sparse trees, undoubtedly on their way to more lush forests, were startled by their conversation and took off into the sky.
"You know that no one cares about the past," Bernard continued. "You're the king's right arm now. Yev earned the respect of yer peers and of the old folk. They dinnae care no more about the other kinda stuff."
"Be quiet, Bernard," Angus snapped. "I dinnae want tae talk about it."
"But brother, I swear, no one cares that you dinnea like girls and?"
"Shut it," Angus roared.
Ol?rin knew only too well how Bernard's ramblings would be a sensitive subject for Angus, and changed the topic of conversation before he could say another word.
"How are you feeling now, Aramus?" he asked.
"Like a Beasties butt-cake," he replied with a weak smile.
"Hush," Angus hissed.
"Sorry, I just thought I'd lighten the humour a little."
Angus raised his hand and the expression of concern he carried on his face silenced any further conversation. The half-man drew his sword and tilted his head from side to side, like he was trying to hear something very small. Bernard too reached for the broad-axe on his back, and stood at the ready. Ol?rin was surprised that their hair filled ears could hear something that he could not. Regardless of his deafness, a prickling sensation made its way down Ol?rin's neck, warning him that they were not alone.
The fierce cries of combatant creatures suddenly erupted from the quagmire around them, followed by the sight of an army of ogres and worgen emerging from the brush. As they charged toward the four travellers, Ol?rin spied the ominous glint of red, metal armour from atop the hill.
