by M. Gregg Roe
They discussed potential dates, settling on one in six day’s time. That allowed ample time to complete her portrait. Would it make an appropriate gift? He decided it would, and that he would have it mounted and framed.
“Have you drawn any nudes?” she asked suddenly.
“I have not,” he answered, observing her face. “You wish me to depict you in that manner?” That, he could easily do from memory.
“Yes, but not tonight; I can tell that your hand is sore. You could make it part of our activities when it is your turn again.”
Was she signaling her willingness to resume their intimate relationship? He certainly hoped so. But he also understood that was but one part of their reconciliation. He had much to atone for.
When Gabriel departed, not long after, he received a kiss that he treasured all the way back home.
After another check of his image in the small mirror, Gabriel decided that his beard was sufficiently tidy. His hair had been trimmed by a professional just three days earlier. Not knowing where they would dine, he had chosen apparel that was moderately formal—a white shirt and navy trousers that were both freshly laundered.
He still hadn’t worked up the courage to return to the dance hall again. It was his considered opinion that he would never be a good dancer. And if Kora did insist that he improve, he wanted her to be his teacher.
Kora’s portrait was complete, awaiting only the completion of the frame he had chosen. He was seriously considering having others of his old sketches framed as gifts. Finding it relaxing, he sketched nearly every day now.
Two loud knocks on the door startled him. He rarely received visitors, and certainly didn’t have time for any now. Before answering, he brushed a piece of lint from his trousers that he had just noticed.
“Hello, Gabriel,” Audrey said, pushing past him effortlessly. He automatically closed the door and turned to face her.
“I have plans this evening,” he told her, admiring how she looked in a pale blue blouse and black, knee-length skirt. She even had a matching hairband.
“We have plans,” she said, standing confidently with her usual perfect posture. “Conrad and I are the other couple. But I need to talk to you about some things, and this seemed like a good opportunity.”
After they seated themselves on his only two chairs, he listened as she described the structure she was building. It certainly sounded odd, but he had encountered all manner of bizarre things in his adventuring days. Her request of him afterward thrilled him, but he needed to be truthful.
“I would be glad to assist,” he told her, “providing it does not conflict with my duties. My father, however, would be the better choice to command the forces you envision.”
“I prefer someone I trust,” she said. “I never really got along with your father, and that was before he shacked up with a demon.”
“A demon who is adept at battle strategy,” he countered. “We do not know what might emerge from the structure once complete. Or what might show up to claim it.”
She shrugged in resignation. “Fine. I’ll talk to them. But I want you involved. Rosalind estimates that it’s going to be at least nine months before it’s finished, so there’s no rush.”
The mention of Rosalind surprised him. “I would like to be involved,” he told her. “And to view the site at some point.”
“Just let me know,” she said, rising gracefully to her feet. “I’ll see you at The Watch.”
So that was where they were dining. After showing her out, he set out for Kora’s house.
With no change of expression, Kora placed her discard tile face up on the table in front of her. Painted on the surface of the wood was a rose, one of the flower types Gabriel was collecting. Audrey was now frowning, likely indicating that she was also collecting them. Conrad’s expression was unreadable, but that was typical.
Skilled Sparrow players altered their strategy dynamically, monitoring the discards, observing the other participants. Kora was probably working toward a completely different goal than when the hand had started. Gabriel rarely altered his strategy. He already had three of the four roses he needed to make a set, so he wasn’t about to give up now. All he needed was another rose or a sparrow. Sparrows could take the place of any tile.
On his turn, Gabriel drew a tile from the stack in the center of the table and then resisted the urge to sigh. It was a daisy, and he had already discarded two of them. But there was nothing for it now. With a sheepish smile, he placed it face up as his discard.
From the very first hand, it had been clear that he and Audrey were competing for third place. Conrad may have not played in some time, but his skill was clear. Kora was no doubt already scheming to invite the man to join her Sparrow group.
“Oh, come on,” Audrey said, after Conrad discarded a rose. Her turn was next, and she hesitated before sighing deeply and discarding a rose of her own. She had given up on collecting them, not that it helped Gabriel. There were variant rules that allowed drawing from the discards, but they were for children.
When his turn came around again, Gabriel drew the sparrow tile he needed. Now he had two sets of four, but none of his remaining tiles matched. He doubted he could complete his hand before someone else completed theirs.
Kora departed from a neutral expression as she looked at the tile she had just drawn. And that told Gabriel that the hand was probably over. She placed the tile in her rack and then, unbelievably, discarded a sparrow tile. “Sparrow,” she announced, then picked up the rack and turned it around to show them. “Full bouquet. Natural.”
Audrey rolled her eyes as Conrad nodded his approval. “Isn’t that the best hand?” she asked in exasperation.
“Yes,” the now-smiling Kora replied proudly.
Discarding a sparrow meant that she could have gone out earlier. Sparrow tiles made it easier to complete hands, but they also lowered their point value. Kora had correctly judged that she could afford to wait.
Meanwhile, Conrad had been tallying up the final scores. He put down the stylus and said, “The final order is Kora, myself, Gabriel, and Audrey. This was fun.”
“For you, maybe,” Audrey complained, then stood up and stretched. “I’m all Sparrowed out.”
“Would you like something to drink?” Kora asked, also standing.
Audrey glanced at Conrad before replying. “No, thank you. Conrad and I both have work early tomorrow morning. But it really was fun. We should do this again sometime.”
After seeing the two of them out, they worked together to put away the Sparrow tiles. Along with the four racks, they fit neatly inside a beautiful box crafted from cedar. Then he moved the table to the corner where it normally resided when not in use, while she returned the chairs to their places around the dining table.
Kora walked up with a wet rag and used it to wipe the game table. “Audrey and Conrad make a nice couple,” she remarked.
“They are an unlikely couple,” he noted, then followed her to the dining table where she began wiping down the chairs.
“So are my parents,” she added. “They’re different races, different ages, and they have very different personalities.”
He could think of several other examples of long and happy relationships between dissimilar people. Was it overcoming differences that made for such strong unions? It gave him hope.
When every last speck of dust had been vanquished, she headed to the kitchen with him following. He watched as she hung the rag on the rack next to the sink. When she turned around, her serious expression caught him off guard.
“I am pleased,” she said, shifting to formal speech. “I believe that our time apart has benefited both of us.”
“I concur,” he said as his hopes rose. “I feel in my heart that we belong together.”
“As do I,” she said, putting a hand to her chest and smiling primly. “But we shall continue apace. What is your desire for our next date?”
What indeed? He hadn’t forgotten her offer to depict
her in the nude, but that would be later. “Perhaps a picnic by West Lake?” he suggested, then realized that weather might be a factor. He would need a contingency plan.
“A lovely suggestion,” she remarked. “Five days from now?”
“Agreed.” He certainly had nothing else planned.
Kora abruptly stepped forward. “Would you like to stay the night?” she asked, her eyes bright with promise.
“It would be my honor,” he returned, feeling both relief and elation. It was another step on their path to reconciliation.
[ 20 ]
Rescue Attempt
Rosalind stepped back and downed the potion before Ferikellan could stop her. “Don’t do this,” he begged, knowing that it was useless. She was committed now. Once the potion took effect, she must either enter the Gray Forest or die.
“I have to,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears. “It’s my fault. I should have been nicer to him. I’ll bring him back somehow. I promise.”
He looked across the boundary at the ceramic vials lying in a patch of clover. Nabarun had drunk the first of the test potions, just as intended. When the potion activated, the elf had grabbed the other three potions waiting to be tested and crossed the boundary before Vurk could stop him. And then he had drunk all of them. The idiot probably thought that would somehow restore him, make him once again part of the Gray Forest. But even if the potions functioned inside—which was unlikely—they wouldn’t extend the duration. He might as well have been drinking water.
“Vurk!”
“Yes, boss?” The gworn was suddenly at his side.
“Give Rosalind a knife,” he ordered. “Then go tell Birchbark what happened and ask him to come here.”
Vurk handed one of his weapons to Rosalind hilt first and then took off running.
Clutching the large knife in both hands, Rosalind said, “I can feel it. I’m going in.”
“Take care,” he called out. But a knot was forming in his stomach because the potion was acting faster than the others. He breathed a sigh of relief as she smoothly transitioned to gray at the boundary. After flashing him an unconvincing smile, she hurried in the direction of Dellhome, which was presumably where Nabarun had gone.
Ferikellan sat down heavily in the tall grass. If Nabarun hadn’t gone to his home village, then Rosalind had little hope of finding him. That was because the elf had a head start of nearly an hour. It would have been even more if Vurk hadn’t run back to the keep to tell them, and Rosalind hadn’t employed flying magic to transport all three of them to the Gray Forest. That was a type of magic that Ferikellan had never mastered, despite substantial effort.
The potion that Rosalind had imbibed was the only one that had been even close to ready. It was experimental, combining blood from one of the Dellhome elves with both his blood and Rosalind’s. That it had worked for her was a breakthrough, showing that they could craft a potion that more than one person could make use of. He had been planning to wait until Audrey was available before testing it on himself. It was the duration that worried him. Rosalind had no chance of survival if it wore off while she was deep within the forest.
Ferikellan rarely prayed, but it definitely seemed like an appropriate time. “Lord Kyran,” he intoned, casting his gaze upward. “One of your priestesses is in mortal peril. I beseech you to watch over her and protect her from harm.” Then he said an additional prayer to Lasrina, the goddess he had always worshipped because of her association with good fortune.
During the month that had elapsed since they had liberated Nabarun from the Gray Forest, he and Rosalind had made progress in their potion research. Minor changes to the Gray Potion formula had extended the duration by nearly half an hour, but that seemed to be the limit. Now everything they tried shortened the duration, sometimes substantially. That was why they had tried something radical.
Nabarun had willingly performed the tests along with Vurk, who timed each one and recorded the results. But otherwise, the elf had been a problem. He wasn’t nearly as smart as he thought he was, barely able to learn any of their language. And he continued to treat Rosalind like she was some kind of monster. None of them cared for him, but Nabarun didn’t seem to notice.
He stood up and paced back and forth as he pondered. What he needed was some way to signal Audrey. She could easily save both Rosalind and Nabarun. Unfortunately, he knew of no spell capable of providing long-range communication. It was yet another topic he intended to research one day.
A hawk flew down, landed mere yards away, then transformed into Birchbark. “The ogres reported three of you flying this direction, and I spotted Vurk running back. What’s going on? Where is Rosalind?”
After pointing at the Gray Forest, Ferikellan began his explanation. When he finished, Birchbark said, “Audrey has people working for her that can view any part of the Realm. It’s possible they’re watching this area right now. Maybe we should fire off some spells as a signal.”
It certainly couldn’t hurt. After gathering his will, Ferikellan pointed his right arm upward and cast three Fireball spells in rapid succession, choosing magenta for the color so they would really stand out. He detonated them high in the air and just outside the boundary. As Rosalind had taught him, spells were capable of more than their default forms. Fireballs didn’t have to be orange. With sufficient effort, they didn’t even need to be spherical, although sharp edges were out of the question.
“That was certainly noticeable,” Birchbark commented wryly. “Now we wait.” He walked several paces and then seated himself under an elm tree with a bifurcated trunk.
After joining the man under the large tree, Ferikellan laid flat on his back and stared upward. He had hoped that Birchbark would have some way to help, but that was foolish. Only Audrey could employ magic within the Gray Forest. It would be possible for Birchbark to fly to the Witch’s City and inform her, but it was probably better that he remain close since no one else nearby could cast healing magic.
Ferikellan still wasn’t feeling well, so he closed his eyes and tried to rest.
“Wake up, boss!”
Ferikellan opened his eyes and stared into Vurk’s rather blue face. He felt stiff and sore as he raised his head. “What is it?” he asked blearily.
“We spotted her. She’ll be here soon.” He held out an arm and helped Ferikellan to his feet.
Ferikellan glanced around as he followed Vurk toward the boundary. Birchbark was still in the vicinity, as were Fern and two ogres. They had laid out blankets, and the sight of the food on one of them made his stomach rumble.
“How long has it been since Rosalind drank the potion?” Ferikellan asked. He still hadn’t spotted her.
“Maybe three hours,” the gworn said, pointing with his upper left arm. “She’s over there.”
From as close to the boundary as he dared, Ferikellan watched Rosalind slowly approach. Her clothing showed rips and even some bloodstains, and her hair was a mess. She was also limping slightly, favoring her left leg. But it was the look of despair on her youthful face that shocked him. When she was three yards from him, she sank down to the mossy ground and laid on her right side.
“They killed him,” she moaned as her eyes filled with tears. “His own people killed him. When the potion wore off, his color returned and they all went berserk. They tore him apart, and I couldn’t do anything.”
“The important thing is that you tried,” Ferikellan told her sincerely. “Nabarun brought this upon himself.”
“I know, but…” She sobbed briefly. “He kept screaming at them to stop, but they were like animals. The Gray Forest is an abomination.”
One that still might kill the woman he had grown increasingly close to over the past month. “Rosalind, you need to remain awake. The potion you drank might wear off at any moment.”
“I know.” She sat up slightly. “Can I have some water? I passed a stream on the way back, but the water looked dirty.”
Only then did Ferikellan notice the crowd beh
ind him. Fern handed him a water-skin, and he carefully tossed it to Rosalind.
After that, the waiting was interminable. Birchbark and Fern headed back along with one ogre. The remaining ogre, a young adult female named Marva, spoke quietly with Vurk while Ferikellan tried to keep Rosalind engaged.
Noon arrived, and Rosalind declined their offer of food. After what she had witnessed, he wasn’t surprised. Ferikellan found his appetite to be healthy now that he knew she was safe.
More time passed, and still the potion remained in effect. “I think we made a breakthrough,” she said, sounding more like herself. “It’s been what? Four hours?”
“Closer to five,” he returned. “How do you feel?”
Now sitting cross-legged, she spread her arms. “Just a little tired. And I’m hungry now.”
After they tossed her a cloth sack containing an assortment of foods, he sat and watched her take small bites of an apple. How foolish he had been to not recognize her worth earlier. She was a remarkable young woman, one he now knew for certain that he loved. But it wasn’t something he could ever bring himself to confess. She was mature for her years, but the difference in their ages was simply too great.
Not long after she finished eating, Rosalind yawned and shook her head. After some thought, Ferikellan walked over to address Vurk and Marva. “Rosalind is exhausted. We need to tie a rope to her and have someone at the ready should the potion wear off while she is asleep.”
Vurk jumped to his feet. “Good thinking, boss. We’ll get some other ogres to come here so they can take it in shifts.”
It took time to get everything ready. They first tossed Rosalind a blanket for her to rest on. Then she secured the end of a length of rope around both her ankles. It wasn’t long at all before she was sound asleep.
