Spirits of the Earth

Autumn nights were chill at the outskirts of the mountains, angling down to rolling hills cut through with rivers, from here one could see much, but a few more leagues and the lay of the land becomes hidden within the density of the forests.  The ground was still moist from a recent rainfall, mud and slick leaves to add to the hazards of travel when one must avoid the roads.  Foreigners would presume travel here was mostly by river in this remote area of Connlaoth, but when one didn't want to be seen they avoided roads.  A league to the northwest lay a village, quiet and peaceful, fires fading and beginning to sleep for the eve.  Clustered are no more than ten buildings, no walls or gates to speak of, outlying the land has been cleared for fields and animals, the village and fields rest in the flat between several hills.  It is past the time of harvest, the fields are mostly barren but for the remaining livestock, to the west of the road lies a grain mill, the tallest building in the village.  The tavern is centrally located to the surrounding buildings.  Scattered far from the village center are three farmsteads, basically just small cottages.

To the north three riders approach hurriedly, heading to find an inn, travel sodden, soaked and covered in dirt from what looks to be weeks on the road, otherwise, inconspicuous.

West a dedicated Connlaoth squad of soldiers rides hard through the night to make up lost ground, once ten, four of their brothers have been felled by mage and traitors, their Mordecai sergeant is unpurturbed.

To the south of the village atop the crest of a hill stand two soldiers, unnoticed by the locals and wildlife.


Atar'Ashi looked thoughtful as he gazed down at the village, unconsciously he pulled his cloak about himself tighter, he was bruised and sore from a fall down a hillside earlier in the day but there was naught to be done about it, no sense in wasting strength on a meaningless healing this close to their target.  It had been a hard ride to arrive early yet he and Dred'Rikath would need to move quickly yet still.  From this vantage the riders could already be spotted. He glanced to his right and peered at his counterpart from inside his cloak, the light from the village was faint but Atar could just make out his cousin's eyes and the scars on his face.  The man returned his gaze and spoke.

"We need to keep moving, mage.  Can you feel it?" the swordsman asked, his voice hushed.

"Aye, others are coming, I have a bad feeling about this Dred." The mage's voice was tense, he seemed strained this night.

"You have a bad feeling about everything.  Let's go"  The succinct response silenced the mage and they began walking onward, the sounds around them strangely muffled, Dred knew immediately the aspect the mage was drawing on, shadow, for stealth.  It was an eerie sensation, if one focused they would spot, or hear them, but to the normal person they would be near invisible. "We will need to reach the road east of the inn about the same time the riders arrive.  Let us hope there are no soldiers garrisoned here from the duchy. Don't strain yourself too much, I understand this mage is a killer"

Atar narrowed his eyes at Dred's grin, he was beginning to get irritated with the man, he allowed the conversation to stop there and fell in stride with his friend, his right hand moving routinely to check that his dagger was secured in its scabbards.  Silently through the night the duo approached the village.

Down within one of those ten buildings lay a red-haired woman unable to sleep despite the exhaustion of her recumbent form. Her "companion," if one could call him that, was nervously pacing a hole into the worn and protesting floorboards again. It was enough to give anyone a headache and Tiraris was no exception.

Groaning, she rolled to her side and raised a hand to move the sole window's ratty curtain so that she might take a peak outside. All seemed quiet and still. The villagers would be pleased but, years of action had taught the assassin that it was only temporary. Something dampening and stifling was approaching.

"Your Moredcai friends are here," she called out softly, knowing the mage would hear her. She sat up just as he rushed into her curtained-off "room."

"I told you, didn't I?" he ranted, rushing about the room to gather carelessly strewn about books. "You just had to go and out me didn't you! Wipe that smirk off your face; this is all your fault! If you hadn't come skulking around looking for a teacher, I never would have been wrapped up in this whole mess."

"You are a practicing mage living in Connloath. You cannot honestly blame me for this. When I found you, you were practicing the darkest of magics, necromancy, in a cave. I hardly believe I have done much to further sully your already tarnished record with the law."

"And you have no concern for yourself?" the harried man questioned as he checked under her cot and came up spitting dust-bunnies. "You are a terrible housekeeper."

"Good thing I am payed to kill then, is it not? We shall take the east road, past the inn and out of the valley." Tiraris sighed as she dispassionately watched the man fumble about in the dark. "That is of course if you plan on leaving before they arrive."

"Of course I'm leaving before they arrive. Can't very well do it after they've got me, now can I? Daft girl! Hey! Where do you think you're going? You're still my student. You can't just wander off on your own like that. What about my payment?"

The assassin ignored the babbling as she exited the shack into cool night. A gentle breeze tugged at her clock and hair, daring her to come play but, she was too busy listening to heed the call. Keen eyes try to see what keener ears had not heard. 'Nothing and yet something. Seems we might not be the only magic-wielders here tonight. This could be interesting.'

Standing there in the dark, the assassin turned her face to the silver moon as she debated leaving now and saving herself or staying. If she stayed there were parts to play. Both the observer and the fighter appealed, although if she fought it would not be for the weasel of a man currently scuttling about inside. He had been no help to her, nor would he be in the future. Her time here was nearly done.

The three riders reigned in off the road near the grain mill, a fence made of rough timber surrounded it, waist high with a single gate in it.  The ground was grass and mud, mostly firm despite the recent rain.  All three dismounted and lead their horses through the gate, hitched their horses, and entered the building.

The mordecai and his squad were approaching, their pace slowing as they took the lay of the land.  Three of the riders broke off from the rest of the squad, ranging ahead as scouts, they were making for the village.  They would miss the three they were looking for until they rallied and searched the rest of the buildings.

Atar paused several strides ahead of Dred"Rikath, the shadows enveloping them flickered, the world blurred a moment and the gray scale colors dropped revealing the darkness of the night. They were standing in the shadows of a farmstead which moments ago had seemed faintly distant, an illusion he knew but it was disorienting none the less.  Beads of sweat trickled down the the face of the mage.  He was shaking, the effort had visibly exhausted him.

Dred spoke as Atar sighed, then sagged, leaning his weight on the wall of the farmstead a moment.  "If you are going to die let me do you in, it won't be half as satisfying if you do yourself in."

The mage noticed Dred was grinning "Mordecai" he growled "Damned brazen, too.  He has no idea what kind of shit storm he is riding in to." He paused and caught his breath, wiped the sweat from his face using the sleeve of his cloak, fought off the nausea he was feeling, then righted himself.  "Do you still have your long knife?"

"Long knife? Aye."  the swordsman reached down, grabbed the leather handle and slid it up from his boot.  He then flipped the knife in his hand so he clutched it by the blade and offered it to the mage who promptly took it from him, fumbled under his cloak for a moment, and tucked it into his belt.  "The man is looking for glory, he has rushed his squad ahead of the others in an attempt to turn his quarry from the field."  Dred began grinning as he spoke. "Too bad-"

"Not too bad" Atar interjected. "Sad for his squad, is all."  Dred noticed that the color had returned to the mage's face, he looked sturdier now that he wasn't drawing on his magic, this close to a mordecai it was hard on the man.  Dred thought that Atar looked...thoughtful.  "Sad for his squad, is all."

Dred's grin faded and he nodded to his partner.  It was always this way between them before a fight, all tension and seriousness.  He sighed and began moving again past the front of the farmstead, if either of them noticed Tiraris as they passed they showed no sign of it.  They were headed directly for the grain silo.

The Mordecai and squad had reached the village and were waking the residents There would be a search, and before long the witch would be found. Among the residents were five more soldiers to account for, garrisoned from form the duchy for the protection of the villagers.  The mordecai was questioning them.

If you were close enough to the grain silo to hear, you would hear the frantic whispers of a girl, her brother, and the man who was guiding them.  The conversation stopped abruptly. A yell was heard.  The alarm was raised, soldiers were mounting even as the guide left the grain mill, untied his horse, mounted, and rode for the forest

From her place, Tiraris could not see the three that approached but her ears had no trouble picking up each frightened, softly-spoken word as if it was in her own ears the words were murmured. 'Well that answers that,' she thought with a smirk, moving towards the silo so as to better observe.

Behind her, the mage Werglk hopped and waved his arms about angrily trying to get her attention. "Get back here," he hissed, casting shifty glances at every little shadow. "You're going to get us both killed!" Cold maroon eyes turned and froze him in his track.

"No, only you." Her attention was drawn away as the alarm was sounded and one of the three took off, riding hard past them. "Time is up. I suggest you follow." Then without another look back, the assassin moved to join the gathering villagers, who came to see what the commotion was about.

Silently she wove in and out of the people, her eyes always searching for the next exit should she need to take flight. The pair had tried to flee but in Tiraris' opinion it was pointless; they would not get out of the valley alive unless as captives.

One of the soldiers addressed the gathering throng in the village center, forcefully reminding them that protecting a fugitive of the law would earn them the same punishment as the criminal they sought to help, in this case death. He implored them to step forward with the witch and her companion at once. "No harm will come to you," he said with a gentle smile as a father might say to his young child who fears the dark.

The assassin did not hide her disdain or disgust then. She cared not for this lands rules, or that of any other. It was the lies that these men told that disturbed her. If the woman was not found then the soldiers would tear the village apart in search of her, blaming it all in the end on the criminals.

Bored already, she decided to take her leave when a familiar voice rang out in the night. "I have the information you seek! I know where the witch is!" The assassin's blood ran cold as she watched as if not with her own eyes as Werglk turned to stare her at her before raising his finger accusingly at her. "Your witch is there captain! Remove her hood and you will see. I've seen her perform magic with my own eyes!"

The villagers recoiled from her, forming a ring of separation around her. Lowering her hood she stared defiantly back. "You would listen to a drunkard than trust your own instincts? I am not who you seek."

"No, you are not," a voice agreed close to her ear. Tiraris wondered briefly it was the exhaustion of trying to quell her magic constantly or the shock of such a quick betrayal that stopped her from realizing just how close the soldier had gotten to her. 'When did I stop paying attention?'

"You know Silverd'art you have a lot of nerve being here after what you've done," the man continued, circling her. "I seem to remember you killing an entire garrison of men only last month. Surely you did not think you would get away with that? Or are you really that stupid."

She recognized the man as one who had nearly caught her twice now. 'Such a cunning one. Pity his ambition will drive them all into the ground.' Tiraris smirked playfully. "What if I told you that I did?"

He took two unwary steps closer to her. She waited patiently for the third, not caring to hear his response effectively breaking his jaw with an angry right hook. Crying out in garbled pain, others joined to come to their injure comrade's aid even as Tiraris fled to higher ground, climbing on top of one of the rooftops in hopes of distancing herself and keeping the upper hand in this fight. It would be easier to defend and attack when her eyes could see what her enemies could not.

"I can see that you are more interested in the mordecai than our Quarry" Dredrikith said and nodded toward the commotion "I will check on the children and catch up with you later."  As the swordsman jogged off Atar began frowning. The children were dead. Even from here, through the fog of the mordecai he could feel their lives fading.  He could have saved one of them, probably.  Their highborn employer would be upset at the loss of her children.

As he rounded the corner of the building he damned near ran face first into four rushing soldiers, all in a line headed straight for him, in a flourish the long knife was unsheathed, unsighted by the man who was just now skidding to a halt before him.  The three behind him stumbled even as the long knife punched through the mans chest, the end of the blood slick blade visible to them through his shoulder.  In a smooth motion he threw the man aside, using his weight to roll him free of the blade even as the men tried to maneuver to intercept him.

A sword raised before him as magic erupted around him, green flames licking out from the building beside the soldiers.  Atar had never stopped moving, the sword snapped down to intercept him even as he darted to the side, blade lifting to take the man in the throat. The sorcerous detonation that erupted was defeaning, seconds after his magic struck superheated bricks cracked and exploded sending shrapnel outward. Shrapnel lanced through the nearest man even as the remaining soldier reeled and lifted his shield, the force of the explosion sent him flying, he was either unconscious or dead.

Blood dripped from the mages face as he stepped clear of the violence, blood soaked the ground from the three dead, two run through and cut, the other bleeding from numerous wounds caught in the explosion.  The supporting wall on this side of the building was crumbling, the groaning sound was evidence enough that the roof was going to collapse under Tiraris' feet.  The remaining soldiers, all elites glared around, shocked by what they were seeing. Veterans all, none flinched as they formed a protective circle around an unconscious man, they were warily keeping their shields raised high, the ones facing the building were looking to the roof, the others' heads turned to follow him even as he circled opposite the roof.  Split attention was ideal for taking down six heavies, he wasn't sure he could do them all on his own without much effort.  The magic required to cause that explosion was exhausting enough in the pressence of a mordecai, more might cripple him.  "There is any army a day's march behind us" Their chosen leader yelled, obviously trying to intimidate. "You will all be killed for this, this entire village is traitorous, harboring mages!"

With a loud groan the roof and wall gave way sending heavy rock and Tiraris with it tumbling to the ground below. Trying to regain her footing, she did not stop careening until she had crashed straight into the mage. Her hands briefly steadied herself on his shoulders as their eyes briefly met.

The leader's shouts though sent her back into motion, shoving the other away from her as she drew her sword. Isilotsë sang in the night air as she easily bit and tore through flesh and bone, cleaving the head of the soldier just behind Tiraris.

Once more the assassin glanced back at the mage unsure of his intentions. They were not enemies in this fight but nor were they friends. Would he kill her as well? 'He can try.' Never leaving her back open to either side, Tiraris spilled more blood as she tried to make her way out of the corner she had been backed into.

Before she had not wanted to fight and become involved but now she did so without question. The red-haired woman was not one to enjoy and savor the kill, nor was she one to pass judgement and determine life or death. But, the attack on her person drove her forward even as she kept gazing back. 'Where is the other one? Did I see two or just the one? I thought there were two.'

"To hell with it," she growled as the flat end of a sword caught her on the side of the head. Anger boiled up inside struggling to find a release. Given time Tiraris would have no problem with laying waste to the area around her. What stopped her though was a pair of frightened blue eyes that stared at her from the doorway of one of the houses. A young child watched the fight that went on around her, never seeing the soldier that approached to extinguish the flame of her life.

Tiraris was too far away to save the child but, that did not stop her from fighting harder. As much as she claimed to hate children she could not find it within herself to condemn this carefree child who she had watched play and laugh over the past month.

"Should have let her fall" he mumbled to himself as he rolled to his feet, back briefly turned to the chaos that embroiled Tiraris. He had barely braced himself for her impact and then she had pushed him over, the wretch.  See what kindness gets you?  Four soldiers sought to encircle her, another moved beyond her reach toward the next house down the street.  Another lay dead, head lulled awkwardly at his shoulder, cleaved clean through the bone and left attached only by a strip of flesh... a brutal swing that must have been to bite clean through the mail guarding the soldiers' neck

The sound of steel rang through the street as bystanders fled, parents ushering children to safety and trying to find sanctuary from this night turned murderous.  Atar drew his dagger and began forward, poised to strike when he heard the shriek of a child, the lone soldier had entered the dwelling he had approached, their was the briefest ringing of steel and then a thud.  One would likely assume the worst.

He sprang into action then, one of the knights turned to face him as the other three pressed the attack on Tiraris.  In the slaughter of this night, of what they have witnessed, anyone else would have turned and fled, but these, these were tough soldiers, disciplined, or perhaps just fanatics.  They appeared to have the advantage at this moment, but Atar'Ashi was determined to change that mindset by killing the two that faced him. He charged.

The man thought unconscious stuck out a leg and tripped him.  Eight strides from the knights.  He grunted hard when he hit the ground, he landed face to face with his assailant, if one could call the unarmed soldier that. The bones of his jaw were collapsed and swollen, perhaps what had started this fray to begin with. The cold look to the mans eyes uneased the mage for a moment, he was about to speak, or laugh when the mage punched his short dagger through the eye hole of his helm, driving it deep into his brain and forever silencing him.

He scrambled to his feet diving away from the approach of hostile characters, barely avoiding a thrust meant for his midsection only to have a downward slash bite into his thigh, cutting through cloth and leather and gashing deep as he moved, twisted to face them, and jumped into action.  He caught the one on the right charging after him, and spun to his shield side, effectively making his partner ineffective in the next exchange of blows. A thrust easily dodged by sidestepping and then the man leaned forward, throwing the weight of his shield out in an attempt to bash him. Atar easily evaded both blows, threw his right arm forward driving the deadly blade between the plates covering his upper arm and immediately slid backward away from his attackers.

The soldiers arm went limp, he could barely hold onto his shield and the spurt of blood that followed delighted Atar, a bleeder that wound, the man was dead.  He staggered as his friend moved past him on his flank, shield raised to face Atar, the injured man stepped backward, out of the fray.

Dred'Rikath emerged from the house where Tiraris had seen the child, his right hand unclasped his cloak and he let it drop aside, the blood sodden thing was ruined anyway.  Chain link armor gleaned in the light under the moon.  His exquisite sword was in his left hand, fingers clenching the gold-worked hilt tightly. the ensorcelled blade gleamied with blood.  His dark eyes were venom, and the fates were going to be cruel to the remaining Connlaoth soldiers.

A roar of anguish tore past the assassin's lips as she heard the child's death-cry. Try as she might though she could not release the surging magic rushing in her veins. Tiraris turned her head to the right and quickly discovered why, another Mordecai was closing in, focusing his power entirely on her.

'Of course! The one time I wish to use it, I cannot. Typical!' She gave no mercy, taking life as if it meant nothing to her. For once it did, for once she was on the warpath of bloodshed and gore. None would survive if she had her way. The dawn sun would bake the land red in the blood of the fallen.

Tiraris joined the pair, weaving in and out of the soldiers as if it were a dance. To her it was, as her body bent and twirled, flowing with a grace that made Isilotsë seem like an extension of her body rather than a separate thing entirely. She had decided to deal with the unknown pair later if they proved troublesome. For now they did not oppose her efforts so she did not pay them too much mind. A wary eye always ensured that they were not about to stick her anyway.

Then out of the corner of her eye she had caught sight of him. "Werglk!" she screamed out into the night. "Traitorous mage, look what you have done!" The man startled and took off at run, the assassin closing in on his heels, unmindful of the soldiers that also followed.

One such soldier managed to catch hold of Tiraris' long hair and yank her back by it. Her head whipped back and her feet slipped in the mud, landing her on her back. It was the man from before, the one who had suffered a broken jaw for recognizing her. His foot stood on her sword-wrist, keeping her from running him through as he leered spat blood in her face.

More surrounded them and she lost sight of her prey. Sitting atop her, he tried to grope her, laughing as her eyes widened in shock and disgust. The others laughed, enjoying the spectacle even as their brethren fell to the other opposing pair of fighters. They hooted and hollered cheering the man on.

At last Tiraris had had enough and rocked her body up to lock her legs around the other man's neck and bring him to the ground. Aware of her intention, he too maneuvered to twist her arm painfully behind her. The pair rolled about in the mud, throwing punches and kicks whenever they could get them, trying to subdue the other. It came to draw though as the soldier once again pinned Tiraris to the ground, his weight crushing her as he chocked her. Her own hands encircled his throat, squeezing for all she was worth. To release the other was to lose. Both faces turned red as the seconds ticked by and they lost the necessary oxygen. More came to watch, enjoying the near fall of the famous Silverd'art.

Dred'Rikath streaked past Werglk and joined the fray in a flurry of lightning quick sword strokes.  Iron struck iron, then flesh, seemingly unimpeded, the shield, guard, and parry of the best swordsman among his foes were simply not good enough, the enemy just melted before the frenzy of his attack, blows always seeming to find the weak points in his enemy's armor.  Incoming blows never seemed to find their target, the man's grace was unmatched, footwork and powerful swings, parry after parry, the enemy simply vanished.  Five were then three, three were then one, and that one looked on in a panic when the bodies fell around him.

It was only seconds since he had entered the battle and yet the man stared in awe even as he wheeled and drove the point of his sword gingerly into the his throat. Dred tore his sword loose, the action causing a gout of blood to fly from the wound,  planted a mailed foot on the mans shoulder, and sent him off to Tiraris' side where he lay, blood gurgling up from his throat, dying.  "Messy business, this." Atar said from across the road as he approached his comrade, Dred took a step back then and offered his right hand to the woman to help her stand, cool dark eyes evaluating her momentarily, a flick down her legs and then back to her eyes.

"You fight well. Can you stand?" his voice was little more than a whisper, but for the crying of a child and faint whispers people in hiding, the night was now eerily silent.  Atar'Ashi was picking his way through bodies, checking them along the way, pulling anything of worth he could find from the bodies, an assortment of small knives, throwing daggers, coins, and jewelry.

"Where did that weasel Werglk go?  Haven't seen him in years, thought he died when I knifed him back in Serendipity." Finished with his search, ignoring Tiraris and Dred he marched by, searching the shadows for the whelp of a mage.  "I'll find him..." he mumbled to himself as he set off down the road, away from Dred and Tiraris.  It was clear that these men were not frightened by her, Werglk, Mordecai, or a Connlaoth army.  They were inexplicably calm considering the circumstances.

The dying man's blood spurted in her face and hair, yet Tiraris did not even flinch as she sat up and placed a hand to her aching throat. A hand impeded her vision and she followed its length up to the man who offered it. A curt nod answered his question, as she cautiously accepted and rose to her feet.

Gently she massaged at the already bruised flesh. When she finally drew her hand away the bruises were gone and the pain receded. 'Mordecai weakened even that. Wonderful!' She kicked angrily at a body, rolling it over as she searched the sodden earth for her sword. Tiraris wiped the filth from her face as she found it and kicked it up into her hand.

The assassin had been content to ignore the men and go on her own path when the traitorous mage's name had her snapping her head up to attention. Long strides brought her to stand facing the first man and blocking his path. "That kill is mine to claim. You would do well to turn back and forget it," she rumbled, her voice still hoarse from her earlier fight.

There was defiance and challenge within her maroon eyes as she stared the slightly shorter man down. This was a matter Tiraris was not going to back down on. Her honor and tentative trust had been abused. This was not a matter she would let rest. Such much life had been lost due to one man's fear and foolhardiness. Werglk would pay, of that the assassin was sure.

Dred'Rikath watched the scene before him and likened it to a comedy skit in a drama...children.  The mage blinked and looked up at the woman standing before him, his brow furrowing in confusion, then arching toward anger. "Whelp!" he yelled.  Atar raised his hand and poked her in the shoulder, hard, punctuating his statement.  "Amateur.  You think you can take down the high mage Werglk? Twice, TWICE" his voice raised in pitch as he ranted "TWICE, we thought we took that weasel down, yet everywhere we go he keeps popping back up, and you think you can kill him." He "hurumphed" as he pivoted on his heel,  narrowed brown eyes leaving hers and he made to step away from her.

Dred'Rikath recovered his cloak, wiped the blade of his sword clean on it, then sheathed the weapon.  Despite his grin, the scarring on his face looked more like a scowl from this angle, this girl was willful, if not a bit foolish.  Nor did she seem to show any bit of gratitude to the fact they just saved her life.  "The enemy of my enemy is my friend", the saying went, and in this case it had burned true, however, she was certainly no ally of theirs.  He could tell the mage liked her, Atar was always a sucker for someone in need, hence the bounty hunting business.

"He didn't go that way" The swordsman said, the words barely audible. Hearing them the mage snapped back around, facing the woman once more, he looked irritated.

Tiraris growled at being chastised like a child. She slapped at the hand poking her and and sneered. "And what makes me an amateur in comparison to you who has twice let him slip away versus I who have never had the opportunity to cross paths with him? Do not pass judgement on me without knowing me. Or better yet do not pass judgement at all! Stay out of my way and keep your nose out of my affairs, that includes Werglk."

She ignored the mage, letting her eyes drift past him to the swordsman who had saved her life. The assassin bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement. "I thank you for your assistance earlier." Tiraris was hoping that he would not call her on that life debt. The sooner she could be free of this place and back on the hunt, the better. Blue eyes were already beginning to haunt her. "I will not be requiring your assistance in the future though. I believe this is where we part ways."

A second bow and her gaze was moving back to the irritated mage. She too had heard the softly spoken words and could not stop the smirk that slid across her lips. "Amateur?" she taunted, staring back into brown eyes.

"I watched him gate." Dred spoke clearly.  After a moment he stood from where he leaned and brushed his cloak off,  he took a minute to go over his person making sure all his valuables and weapons were in check.  "Besides, we have only one path ahead of us, and that is away from an encroaching army.  With four mages present they are no doubt going to march this way first light.  When their outriders don't return they will send more riders, and we won't make the border before they are upon us."  His eyes flicked between Atar and Tiraris.  She was formidable, he doubted Atar could take her blade for blade, magic was an altogether different game though.  He was fairly certain they were going to fight, and if they did he doubted he would be able to stop them, and at this moment he doubted much of the village would survive the encounter.  

His companion had spoken of a strong magical presence here when they approached.  He had been vague but he had no doubt now of its source.  It was not Werglk, he was too good to simply get caught.  He didn't need to ask why this woman would want to pursue, and kill the wily man.  He had a habit of making enemies... oh but was he good at hiding.

"Gate?" Atar spat, spittle landing on Tiraris chin, anger transformed to rage in the man instantly.  He hadn't moved from before the woman but his eyes were focused on Dred.  "The tenacity of the man, how did he gate with a mordecai present?  It must have been set before they were close, he knew, you must know!" his attention had turned and he wheeled on Tiraris once more, finger jutting out and popping her in the shoulder hard once more. "Where was he going!?"

She wiped the saliva off her chin in disgust before in turn wiping it on the man's shirt in front of her as she pushed him aside. His second attack on her person though stoked the fires burning in her veins. It would be a while before she could get it moving to the surface again, no thanks to the Mordecai. But, it was still there and with it, her very expressible anger.

Tiraris latched onto the offending hand, twisting it into a lock with ease. "Do not touch me again or it will be more than your hand you lose. What makes you think I will help you when I have made it clear I want nothing to do with you? You are rude and loud, neither are things I wish to associate myself with. You would only be in my way.

"Now if you will excuse me," she said taking a step back. "I must be going. If what your friend says is true, then staying here is out of the question. I have no desire to be here when they lay waste to this valley once more."

Atar's eyes closed tight and he grunted, feeling his finger break as the woman used it, twisting his arm into a lock, Dred rushed toward the duo but the mage was already working, reaching for the tendrils of power that curled about the woman, they were wild but he could use them...with minor repercussions. Werglk had been near enough to the woman that he could trace him using her, and her he would.  It was a violation, and she was going to hate him for it but that was not about to stop him.  The shadows swelled around them, ebbing and moving like fluid, viscous, the faint smell of death touched the air as the world around them shifted, lurched... light exploded around them, and then he collapsed, drained.

Dred'Rikath reeled and fell to his knees his strides bringing him close to the duo as they were flung gods knew where across the continent.  He would strangle the bastard mage when he woke, doing such a thing without warning.  The contents of his stomach were emptied onto the ground before him, nausea rolling through him. He gagged, coughed, and rolled onto his back, trying to gather his senses.  It was hot, the sun was beating down.  The ground was hard, barren, and lifeless, perhaps sandy.  Why did it have to be a desert?

A change was coming over her and Tiraris was powerless to stop it. She felt her power rise up within but instead of channeling out through her it went to a different source. One moment she was standing in the ruined village, the sun close to rising and then the next she was in the middle of suffocating heat and sand with a harsh sun beating down on her weakened body.

Her body shook fiercely as she landed hard on her knees. It had been too long since she had used any kind of raw magic like that. It pleased her that no one had died in the effort but she was very close to killing the mage whose hand she was still firmly gripping.

The assassin ignored the retching swordsman in favor of screaming at his moronic companion. "Did you have any idea what you have done? You could have killed us all," Tiraris growled, punching him in the soldier before trying to wobble to her feet. The smell of heat and vomit made her sick to her stomach and it took all her effort to keep the bile down.

"This is exactly why I do not wish to help you." She collapsed to her hands and knees once more, wanting nothing more than to kill them both and be on her way. The problem was though, she had no idea which way was hers. From every angle there was nothing to see but hot endless desert that would only be getting worse as the day continued on.

'No water, no food, no shelter, just a pair of useless idiots to work with. That damn mage almost killed us all. Did not even have the courtesy to ask! Then again, I never would have let him do it. Would have dropped him off the side of a cliff before I let him do it. Not a bad idea actually, may still do that. No use complaining. Think Tir, think! Priorities: clean air, clean water, shelter, kill the idiots. Got it.'

Pulling the decorative cloth drape around her waist off, the assassin made quick work of wrapping it around her face and head to protect her from the elements. She tried to focus all of her energy on her hearing but each breath from her unwelcome companions sent knife-like searing pains through her head right behind each eyeball. "Will the two of you quit breathing? I am trying to listen!"

"If you don't kill him, I'm going to" Dred'Rikath growled then clenched his teeth.  He groaned when he rolled over, fought his ways to his knees, used his hands to bury the contents of his stomach under sand and then sat cross-legged to look around.   To his right Atar'Ashi was passed out.  The woman had yet to stick a dagger in the short man's back and the only sign of life was the expanding of his lungs which was barely notable from within his cloak.  Systematically Dred stripped himself, first his cloak, and then his chain shirt, leaving him in his boots, trousers, and shirt.  The severe scarring on his right side had left most of it without feeling, a blessing in this heat.  The sun would be devastating, and worse yet, they had not recovered their supplies.

The only vegetation he spotted from here were cacti, which looked strangely familiar, come nightfall he would know for sure, but he suspected this was the edge of the Moraki desert.  Closer to water they wound find all sorts of wildlife and fauna. All told not a terrible place to wind up, better than Connlaoth if it was, but considering current circumstances, the march to the nearest oases was going to be tough.  They would need bladders for water, food, and shelter during the day.  Shelter would be hard with no tent,  but they had made do before.  Food could be scavenged, he knew there was liquid to be had in the cacti, and he might just be able to scrounge up some food if the world around him would stop spinning when he wasn't squinting.

"What is there to listen to besides the wind?" he asked then drew a deep breath.  Sweat was beading on his forehead already, the sun was going to be a problem.  Dred pulled the small knife from his boot out and went to work on his cloak, cutting a long strip of cloth from it.  This he wound around his head and face as Tiraris had done, but was sure to leave enough of his cloak to provide some warmth at night.  Finishing this he rolled up his sleeve and drew the blade across his upper arm, staunched the wound with his shirt so it would not drip, then drove the knife hilt deep into the ground in front of him.

"What is your name, woman?" he spoke to Tiraris but his gaze focused on the ground before hiim, hands sitting on his knees he stared, waiting.

Tiraris scowled, trying to ignore the man even has her armor clinked and grated on her nerves. Finally she raised a hand, her finger pointing off into the distance. "Water. It runs deep within the earth but runs in that direction. Where there is water, there is life. I assume you do wish to live, correct?"

Sweat droplets raced down her spine, making the assassin wish she could also remove her chainmail. But, the idea of carrying it versus wearing it was not nearly appealing enough. It would be too much effort when what she needed most now was to move and find water. The fact that the heat beating down on black metal and cooking her alive was one she was choosing to ignore currently.

For a moment she contemplated not telling him her name. However, unbidden the memory of blue eyes and then his help drove her to speak. He at least had not shown her any real animosity. "Silverd'art. And you-" her voice trailed off as she took note of what the swordsman was doing. She could not fathom why he would injure himself or drive the blade into the ground. "You do realize you are wasting energy in time when you have so little of both?"

"I am called Dred'Rikath Tenull, he is Atar'Ashi Tenull.  The surname was a gift of our cohort.  Some religious nonsense meaning "The Burned Ones". Silvedr'art..." he whispered to himself, then removed the wrap he had covering his face which he had moments before applied.  Black cloth in this heat, bad idea he decided, wool no less. His eyes broke from the weapon buried in the ground before him and drifted to hers. Silverd'art. It sounded familiar, he wasn't sure from where, but it wasn't terribly important.  The lady was correct in assuming he wanted to live, her name was relevant to their survival.  Something shifted in the sand before him, he noted it in his peripheral but made no move for the weapon, nor did he fright away from it.  "There is water everywhere in this desert, presumably easier to reach in the cooler temperatures of the eve, assuming we do not dehydrate and get the heat sickness.  Presumably I want to live, even so, it would be unwise to move right now, and near impossible in your armor, and dragging the dead mule-" he paushed a moment and gestured with his hand to Atar "Dragging him.  Speaking of your armor, you should remove it lest you die, dragging both of you would be unfortunate, and when you black out I will have to remove it anyway, it would be unseemly-"

His words trailed off, his attention back to the dagger before him, his hand snatched out, withdrew the dagger, and buried the blade into the writhing sand before him.  In a fluid motion he pulled a scorpion about the size of his hand out of the top layer of earth, free hand snapping the creatures tail from its body in what looked like a practiced motion, tossed the tail aside, and dropped the dead scorpion on his cloak.  Upon completing these actions he stuck the dagger back in the ground, whereupon his attention turned back to Silverd'art.  "Unseemly to strip you, but if needed I will."  He stifled a grin at the thought but he doubted he could hide it, he imagined she would fret at that, or throw something at him.  "I think we are in the Moraki desert, in Esswyrn.  I can gather a better location once the stars are above us.  If there is groundwater, it likely feeds a river, perhaps a few days' travel from here, and from that river we can navigate to  the golden city... if this is Moraki."  Motion in the sand again, another scorpion caught, tail removed, and tossed to his cloak.  The swordsman paused a moment and wiped his forehead clean of sweat with his sleeve.

"My father's father was of the desert people, we traveled a few times to Essyrn in my youth to visit distant relatives, we lived in a border village just inside Adela's claimed territory and so, distantly they governed us.  The Adela military will also punish insubordinate soldiers with tours and patrols just outside of their territory, into the desert country bordering theirs.  Most of these patrols will not survive to come back, those that do are generally better behaved...harder, better soldiers...but it leaves a bad taste.  I have begun to ramble.  The black scorpions here" he gestured, one hand to the scorpions, the other to the tails.  "The claws can be ground up once you clean them out, when mixed with water it thickens, you can apply it to your exposed skin to prevent burning.  The poison gland in the tails, the venom is thick, you can crush the sac and apply it to your skin on burnt areas, it will act as a numbing agent.  Slick your blade with it and it is paralyzing.  I will show you how to remove the venom sac in a moment."  he looked beyond her, to the nearest of the cacti.  This one had a large red flower atop it.  "Those large cacti, among other things, are likely to contain water when sliced open.  You said their is deep ground water?  That would explain the state of the vegetation.  It is my belief that if we rest, we can travel at night and easily sustain ourselves."  This last sentence was spoken succinctly and upon completion he flashed his most winning smile, which he realized wasn't very winning when accounting the scars that marred his face.  More movement under the sand before him, another scorpion nabbed.

"What is your relationship with Werglk?"  Dred'Rikath's tone was harder, far more serious than it had been a moment ago, as he gazed forward his eyes seemed to gloss, lost in memories.

"Your concern is admirable, however unnecessary Dred'Rikath Tenull," she replied, letting his name flow off her tongue with such an ease as to suggest she had been calling it all her life. Tiraris had absolutely no intention of letting him touch her nor of removing her armor. Instead, she concentrated on trying to lower her body temperature some. Although with the heat it was a battle she knew she was going to lose. The idea of being so vulnerable around the two strangers though left her wary and on edge.

She watched fascinated as he handled the scorpion's. His actions of before now made sense but his lecture was grating on her nerves. Reaching forward, she snatched up one of the tails, she made quick work of emptying the sac into a vile. "If digested it also has the capability of temporarily paralyzing a giant or a dragon for a number of hours. I know my poisons."

'Do not treat me like an idiot,' her eyes howled at him. The assassin sat cross-legged across from him in the sand, trying to let her body relax enough to start conserving strength in the face of the hot sun. 'You are going to have to take it off at some point, you know. The longer I delay the less time he has to oogle me. And the less time you have to survive. The more you sweat the faster you become dehydrated. Come on Tir, be reasonable!'

Tiraris continued to ignore her inner voice, choosing to glare at Dred. "Our relationship was purely sexual, of course," she growled out sarcastically. "Keep out of my business. Our relationship if you could call it that, is none of your concern." Her head dropped into her hands to feel sweat literally pool into her palms. 'When that mage wakes up I am going to kill him!'

"I did not mean to raise your ire.  Relationship is not perhaps the right word.  In my experience with the man-" Six or so scorpions now, more than enough, he would store the tails for later use.  "He is pure evil, insofar as our morals are concerned." He gestured off handedly to the mage. "People often look on us with disdain, soldiering and killing that is.  It is not often you see soldiers weep, but that man...the monster, Werglk.  It is ironic though, this is the third time we have encountered... him.  The first two times I would swear he was dead, but when thinking back neither of us truly landed the death blow...no, it was more fortunate happen stance, in our favor of course, that his own magics went awry and wound up... gravely wounding him to the point no mere mortal would have survived? Sounds feasible, I think."  rambling again the swordsman looked thoughtful, he leaned back now, sun catching his face, it was pink already, no less than two hours in the sun. Despite his travelers tan, nothing could truly help in this sun.

Dred'Rikath shifted an uneasy hand to the gold worked hilt of his sword, the engravings on the bottom depicting a dragon, this particular brand of sword was common among high ranking Adela officers. He focused on it for a long could of minutes before turning his attention back to the woman before him.  She was graceful in a fight, but had fought with desperation.  From the shadows he had seen what she was fighting for, the child he had saved.  He would not tell her, of course, she didn't need to know that he knew.  Years of soldiering had taught him to hold his information, he might be open about himself but most people, killers especially, were not open about themselves.  She could kill him now, if she wanted. Laying back in the sand he let the heat soak in, it was a nice change, from the muddy sodden forest they had been in, if not a bit drastic.  

"A particularly painful poison, this one, aye.  I was subject to its effects a few times.  An assassin then?  Correct me if I am wrong.  Mercs and sell swords are typically more gruff, they lact tact and grace, and tactical sense for that matter.  Nor do they ever fight with such obscene purpose." Brown eyes popped open and gazed down from where he lay, addressing Silverd'art once more "I had a dragon once, you see, and our cohort had been sent just off the border of Serendipity to investigate some strange goings on, and by strange I mean missing kids and missing people and walking dead, abominations roaming the forests, the sorts of things that people distanced from civilization make up to keep people away.  Eventually, after several weeks we met a man, our troops had dwindled greatly, and this man you see, he was killing children."  Eyes closed once more, remembering, it was grievous this thing, dark.... "And he killed my dragon, a sad day let me tell you.  His name was Werglk."  

Atar'Ashi groaned and rolled from his back to his side but did not appear to be waking.  Sweat beaded down his face,  Dred would have to make the salve soon, probably.  It could wait a few minutes longer, though.  ""It's the level of your swordsmanship you see, the way you move and how private you are.  Gives you away as an assassin I think.  Unless I'm wrong."

With great patience each word was heard and saved for later. The assassin quietly observed without judgement. That would come later. For now she simply stored all the information she could gather to be used later should she need it.

Some of what was told to her was new information but most of it she had heard first hand from Werglk himself. The man loved to brag, especially when he believed he had a captive audience. Being his student had certainly a trial of her patience and will. The fact she had not attempted outwardly to kill him was a testament to either her strength or foolhardiness.

"You are not wrong. My chosen profession is that of a taker of life for profit. Though I am not so sure your reasonings are correct for I can identify completely different reasons for my being the way I am. Grace, swordsmanship, secrecy, you sir have clearly never dabbled much in politics."

Bending at the waist from how she sat, Tiraris crossed her arms in front of her to use as a pillow for her chin. "So is sleeping beauty ever going to awaken or are you going to have to lug his carcass around?" She refused to volunteer herself to help. The assassin had her own problems to deal with, namely the heat. With an exasperated groan she sat up again and removed her boots, burying her feet in the sand soon after and relishing in the semi-coolness below the surface.

Dred narrowed his eyes and sat forward, rolled to his knees and then stood.  Quickly he brushed the sand off his knees and back.  Silverd'art seemed to be in a hurry.  Well, he would oblige her, considering she was wearing black chain the heat would be sweltering, she would be lucky to march until nightfall in it.  Crouching down over his cloak he carefully packed the scorpions and scorpion tails in it, rolled it up and tied it with the length of cloth he had cut free.  He then loosed his belt, rearranged his hilt and looped the makeshift satchel through it.  "If we musts march, we must march." He sang, to no one in particular.

Fixing a hard look on Atar'Ashi he moved over to his side, leaned close, and listened to his breathing.  Steady, a good sign.  Dred stripped the man of his cloak, prepared it the same way and attached it to the light mans' belt.  Heaving upward he pulled the man over his shoulder and stood.  The mage wasn't a terribly large man but the added weight would make the march, at least until the man awake...if he did.  "I have spent a lot of time avoiding politics, sadly, sometimes it is unavoidable."  Keen eyes looked past Silverd'art as he began walking, grunted at his first stride, shifted Atar's weight, and then set an ambitious pace in the direction this Silverd'art had pointed out some time ago.

He did not like silent marches, no soldier did.  The only armies that marched in silence were the ones marching to their deaths, and those ones knew it.  No, unlike his ever brooding companion Atar, he did not like the silence.  It always seemed foreboding.  "Tell me, Silverd'art.  If you dabble in politics one would assume you are well read, are you a student of history?"

'Of course, I get comfortable; he decides to move. A simple question sends him off and running. Typical male through and through,' her mind complained as she jammed her feet back into her boots and laced them up again.

She soon fell into stride beside him, keeping on ear cocked towards the earth to follow the sound of the water in case it should change paths on them. "I once was a student of many disciplines. But, that was a long time ago when I was still sweet and impressionable. Now my only master teacher is the one called life. Every day brings a multitude of new lessons. However, that was not what you were asking."

Tiraris paused trying to think of the right words to say but, her mind kept drifting back to hot summer days spent indoors pouring over tomes of her lands history over and over again before a tall lanky boy with a winsome smile could convince her to abandon her studies. She shook her head sharply, dispelling the memory and returning herself back to the present.

"I am not an advocate of either politics or history. Both are things I have had to endure far too many pompous lectures on to really find any joy in either. However, in the nature of asking questions since it seems that you will continue to chatter until you find something to get me to be less guarded in a communication, let me pose one of you. Why do you wish to know of my studies?"

"It's simple politics is it not?  Common practice to assess ones potential allies, or enemies, prior to engaging them...alas, my interest is of neither nature, we are walking through a deathly hot desert, and I am lugging an entire body of dead weight.  I am simply curious about you.  I do not ask any intimate details, unless you want me to, of course" He was grinning again. "  Dred sniffed the air, the breeze was very faint and it carried the the smell of something dead.  Not recent, or, not so recent that the desert wouldn't handle it quickly enough.  Scavengers abounded here, waiting, opportunistic for everything weaker than they to pass.

The horizon shimmered in the distance ahead of them, the sun overheard slowly crawling toward its destination.  Darkness would not come soon enough, and even then he would not slow much.  A quick break for water and food, and then they needed to keep moving until first light.  Rest would desperately be needed by the end of this evening, and he hoped to find shelter for that.  Atar'Ashi had managed to surprise him again.  Not that that was uncommon, but every time he thought he had the measure of the man he now shouldered, the mage would come out with another surprise.  Year after year Dred had begun to suspect that he was more than simple mage soldier, and more likely should be ranked among the greats that served kings and queens, and more and more it was apparent that he was right.  If Werglk  was some demon spawned immortal god destroyer of the underworld then it was likely Atar was his bane.

That they had survived this long was a testament to luck.  Some would say skill, or blessed, some would say they were champions coming out alive from what they and there brethren soldiers had seen, but he maintained it was nothing but sheer, dumb, luck.  Often, he wondered if they Adela military tracked them, ever on the hunt for deserters from their iron clad military fist- not that they had been in hiding, if they truly wanted to prosecute them they needed simply look out their back door for years, but he always wondered.  His dragging steps pulled him to a stop, he had not been paying attention to Silverd'art and noted that in his brooding he had gained several strides on her.  Sweat had drenched his clothing and he was paying it no mind, it would not be long until dark now, the shadows were getting long and the sky was beginning to show hues or orange and red.  In the back of his mind he made note that they had been travelling at an uphill grade for quite awhile now, eventually it would level off, and hopefully slope downward to water.  He hoped Silver'dart was right.  She would have corrected his course were he to be heading from the direction of this under ground water source, right?

The swordsman paused to let Silverd'art come astride him and set off once more, more and more frequently the man on his shoulder groaned as he walked, the bounce of his strides clearly not allowing for an easy rest, nor did he think the mage would rest easy after the magics he had unleashed, especially under this baking sun.  A glance down at his arms showed him they were burnt.  In the distance he spotted a sign post, he couldn't tell if it was a warning or a road marker.  The desert people often left way stones or fetishes to identify locations with water, for survival, but as of yet he had spotted none.  The sign post would likely have been plotted by merchants, or could have been a trick of bandits.  

"Ever we do seek, finding naught but destruction in our wake, the crumbled cities of our own creation."  The tones when he spoke were harsh, the words he spoke were in archaic Thanati, a form closely related to their current tongue, but distinctly difference in the structuring of the sentences.  He had found the words in an ancient scroll, barely decipherable, many years ago.  The truth always rang true to him.  He glanced in Silverd'art's direction awaiting her reaction.

She nodded her head in agreement but said nothing more about his questions. She did not want to know what he thought of her. It was none of her business and would only open up a huge can of worms in her opinion. There had to be a strict line between them or complications of the heart would arise. Tiraris could not allow herself to harbor emotional attachments of any sort. They would only serve to impede and distract her in the end.

The assassin had her own dark past that she was running from. Much like the blue eyes that were haunting her now, there were always triggers that made her feel vulnerable. She hated feeling weak and had done everything in her power to the point of locking herself up inside and slamming the door on the rest of the world to ensure she could not be hurt.

At last the sun was beginning its descent in the sky but, Tiraris could not take the heat anymore. Her stubbornness was very close to killing her. Her skin felt like it had been rubbed raw from the sand and sweat that caused the armor to stick to her painfully.

She smiled to hear his words, glancing at him in respectful awe before turning her gaze to the horizon. "While we sought to conquer the world we in turn were made subservient and returned home to far less than which we started."

Tiraris bowed her head to him. "You speak it well. Few have studied that tongue and most scholars I have heard butcher its presentation. It comes easy to you. I commend you." Putting her pride aside she reached a gentle hand out and placed it on the soldier's shoulder and sighed. "We should stop now. When night falls we can move again when it is cooler. There is no use burning what little energy we do have when we will need it to keep warm tonight."

What the assassin was not telling him was that the underground stream had forked. The path to the right was stronger flowing but twisted and returned in the direction they had come from. The water to the left was quieter suggesting two possibilities. Either it disappeared deeper within the earth and she could lose it before the find it or it came to an abrupt end. She did not know which way to go. Either route could be closer than the other or lead them needlessly further than where they should be going. Rest could possible give her the peace of mind to come to a decision. Right now all she wanted to do was lay still for a moment and temper her breathing so that each inhalation did not feel as if she were being squeezed to death.

Dred nodded at her suggestion, her touch surprised him, but if he felt any unease at the gesture he did not show it. He pointed to their right and gestured, not far from where they were now, perhaps a five minute walk, and they would find glorious shelter from the sun  Three pillars of earth, two smaller ones with a larger one weighing heavily to one side, balanced atop the others.   They were thrust rust upward at awkward angles, looking as though magic had struck, or perhaps just an earthquake. The rust colored rocks sparkled in the sunlight. Trapped within the pillars were various gem stones, pieces of glass, and crystal. Occasionally, when the sun would hit a crystal just right, it could refract and cause a small rainbow. With practiced ease she shifted the weight of the mage and balanced Atar on his shoulder then struck off in the direction of the formation. His face and arms were sun burnt pretty badly, no doubt the mage was just as bad off.  A faint, tired smile creased his lips.  

"Archaic Thanati has close ties to a few other, forgotten languages.  There is an elder Fae language,"  It was, in fact, plain worrisome to the soldier.  He was familiar with Moraki, and he decided this was in fact the Moraki desert, it was notorious for missing travelers and tales of beasts aplenty.  They had seen some fiends in their own treks across the wasteland expanse, but most of the tales were spun to scare people,, an age old warning about not straying from the roads.  Beasts, however, were a different story.  They had survived encounters, not all of them but enough to heed the warnings and hear wisdom from the eldest of people who spoke them.  Some of them had wielded magics distinctly fae in their feel, and their manifestation.  Perhaps they were just shades and ghosts, shadows of an empire of 'ole, sufferers of magicks and their sins or curses that have prevented their departure.  He relaxed slightly as the outcropping drew closer.

Again the assassin nodded. Her own native tongue was of the older fae languages that many had forgotten save for the Tirians whose culture demanded its continuance. She shrugged and followed him, not feeling the least bit sheepish for not seeing the outcrop. Tiraris was tired and miserable, she could only imagine how the other two felt.

While heatstroke began to set in for her, she was at least saved from the painful burns that covered her travel companions. Tiraris had already decided that once they stopped she would immediately strip off her armor, self-consciousness be damned. She could always knock Dred'Rikath out if he decided to get uncomfortable.

They had almost reached their desired destination when a tall figure suddenly jumped out from behind a sand dune to the assassin's right. On instinct she unsheathed her sword, stopping an attack aimed for her head. A dry rumbling sounded from the man's chest as he broke their lock and lowered his bludgeon.

"You have gotten slow little Zeyna. What's the matter? Heat starting to get to you?"

An uncharacteristic smile lit up her face as she flung herself at the man to give him a one-armed hug. "Raflroi!" Her embrace was accepted for a brief moment before the desert nomad was pulling away again.

"Fool girl, you're going to get yourself killed. How are you not half-baked already?" His eyes peered out from inside his face wrap to examine the two men. "And you, shouldn't you have known better than to let her wander around like this? You had mind enough to care for yourself but not a woman? Where is your head at boy?"

Beside him, Tiraris snickered, knowing it was her own stubbornness that had prevented Dred'Rikath from doing so. "Come," he called still glaring at the swordsman and distracting her from her thoughts. "The caravan is just up ahead. Better to get you three misfits watered and cooled off before you become buzzard feed."

In only two heart beats Dred'Rikath had managed to set his friend down and draw his sword from a defensive posture, the muscles of his shoulders and back stiff from the days march, the stance he sank into came with ease and his muscles almost instantaneously relaxed into the position.  The worst flashed through his mind in an instant, eyes scanning rapidly for more assailants as Silverd'art turned the assault that was brought toward her, nothing of the moment settled his unease.  Placed defensively between the two before him and his friend, the point of his blade dipped low, defenses dropping slightly during their exchange.

"Boy?" He asked, the expression on his face and tone of his voice would have seemed comical.  He was at a loss right now.  It chafed to be accused thus, it was the fool woman's own fault she was baking in black steel under a desert sun, and oh it was the Moraki sun no less.  The man's accent was clear enough to his ears, his own assessment had been correct, but for a caravan to be here meant they were no doubt near civilization.  Travelling from one end of the continent to another, and the woman had chanced an encounter with an ally.  What were the odds?  Was this all a trap, some divine gamble of twisted gods?  First Mordecai, then Werglk, now this.  Everything was out of control.  This was not what they had signed up for.  Teetering on the verge of exhaustion the swordsman blinked then slammed his blade back into its' sheath.

"She refused my advice." He bristled, speaking perfect Essyrni.  Dred took a quick step back as motion caught the corner of his eye.  Atar'Ashi, sunburnt, eyes blood shot.  The mage looked around quizically, brushed some sand off his pants, shrugged, and winced.

"Water, you said, friend?" he croaked, throat dry and raspy, then cracked a grin at the three standing before him.

Raflroi rolled his eyes but nodded his head along. There was no forcing the assassin to do anything she did not want but, that did not mean he would not give the other man a hard time. "Well then you should have been more convincing! She is a woman and a fool one at that. If you are going to drag her along then you have to be able to take care of her."

Tiraris for her part did nothing to dissuade the tall man from yelling at Dred. She was actually thoroughly enjoying it. That is until the mage decided to remind her of his existence. Her face darkened and the smile vanished as she took a heavy water-skin from the nomad and knelt beside Atar'Ashi to offer it to him.

She resisted beating him into a bloody pulp immediately instead deciding to wait until he was a bit more recovered and had at least the semblance of a fighting chance. "You are in for a hellstorm of trouble mage, just so you know. Hurry up and get better because I do not think my patience will last much longer to deliver your reward for this," she growled, settling only when a calming hand squeezed her shoulder. Her hand still twitched beside her though, itching to smack the mage clear across the face. No one took advantage of her.

Atar smartly only took only a few small sips of water, any more risked making himself ill at this point and he knew it.  He managed his most gracious look, all the while wincing as she berated him.  He blinked his doubled vision into focus, cleared his throat, and began to stand.  Upright the shorter man wobbled a bit on his feet, head canted towards Tiraris before he addressed her.  "Most gracious for the water, sir." he said to Raflroi.

The mage frowned suddenly looking around, his mouth moving as he visibly counted the people around him, eyes shifting from Dred, to Raflroi, and then back to Silverd'art.  "Why did you follow us?" he accused, confusion wrinkling his brows as he counted again, this time on his fingers, and then growled out loud.  "That horses arse, I can't believe he did this."  Atar stomped his foot like a child, kicking at the sand afterward, he had just appeared to take in the fact they were in a desert.  "Moraki!?  How did he do it! We should be in Serendipity, but here!? ...."  The mages voice trailed off as he muttered to himself, turning away from the group and walking several paces away as he ranted to no one in particular.

Dred'Rikath had a particularly amused expression on his face, particularly when the mage, amidst his tantrum after marching away, wobbled to one side, fell over, and dusted himself.  His unease seemed to abate for the moment and then he turned to cold stare on Raflroi.  "Who said I was incapable of caring for her?  I was going to remove her armor once she passed out, no sense losing digits beforehand.  Haven't you seen her waving that sword about?"

Tiraris growled but remained put, solely because of the strong head that still kept her firmly in place. "If you had attempted such a thing you would have lost more than your digits!"

"Settle Petal!"
"Do not call me that!" she hissed again, turning her ire towards Raflroi and raising a fist as if to strike.

The man shook his head, smartly keeping silent as he rolled his eyes to Dred'Rikath over her head and caught her hand gently. "Go you. If you do not get that armor off soon, all our heads will be rolling and I know a certain little boy who would be very disappointed with you if he didn't have his papa coming home to him."

Her head popped up at that piece of information. Forgetting about the men or more likely, choosing to ignore them, Tiraris took off at a dead run in the direction the enormous man had come from.

Raflroi sighed and shrugged. "Women," he declared as if it explained everything. "Come, gather your friend before he finds quicksand. He can do his ranting in the shade, just as well as the sun. And forgive me but, I am Raflroi," he stuck out his hand to shake, "and you both are?"

Dred'Rikath took the man's hand and offered the tradition Essyrn greeting.  Women, was right.  This woman in particular, hard and willful as she was, had a weak spot for children that one could see plain as day, even after his brief time with her.  "Atar" he snapped, turning his attention from man to mage.  Atar stopped his ranting and tantrum after a moment and staggered back toward his friend and Raflroi.

"I am Dred'Rikath Tenull" clear, well spoken common now, his voice was calm and even, hiding his exhaustion well even as he presented himself, one hand then flicking toward his companion "And this is-"

"Atar'Ashi, Tenull" the mage interjected quickly, voice still hoarse, exhaustion clear in his eyes and the sluggish way he moved.  Dehydration had set in for the mage quickly, but Dred knew if it came to it the man could perk up instantly.  He could not wait for a share of water and a meal, and shelter from this sun.  Dred'Rikath offered Atar his shoulder, and the mage nodded obligingly and took it.  To the swordsman the man looked the walking dead, the ordeal of the day having clearly taken him for the worst, if it had been only a day.  He wasn't so sure now, the gate could have drained them quite a bit more and passed any varying amount of time for the distance they traveled.

Attentions turned back to Raflroi, both men nodded almost simultaneously, but only Dred spoke.  "It is an honor, sir.  We are gracious of your offer for water and the security of your caravan.  If puzzles me though, sir, how you knew we were here in the first place.  I make no accusations, but after the days' events it is unnerving."

Atar'Ashi cackled aloud, a smile creasing his lips and causing him to wince because of the sun burn "We're in a desert, twit.  Probably saw you two leagues away, staggering like a hunch back with me over your shoulder."  Dred'Rikath smiled slightly, glad to have his friend awake again, grating as he was.

"As you say, mage..."

"Well met, my friends. However, it is not quite as simple as just being the desert. My young son shares a very close bond with our fiery desert flower. Zeyna's aura is like no other and my son has somehow managed to capture her heart. She is a wildfire that one, but I'm sure you know that already," Raflroi chatted with them, smiling as the large caravan wagons came into view and with them a tall red-haired figure.

Tiraris ignored their approach as now shed of her heavy armor she clutched a frail child close and spun him about. The boy smiled toothily though and uncoordinately waved, ending up elbowing the assassin in the head in the process. His motions belied how frail and sickly he was but his eyes told of an inner strength that could not be rivaled. They were shocking in appearance, a deep blue set in a gaunt dark-skinned face.

"You stealing my son now, Zeyna? Is this the treatment I deserve for saving your life twice now?"
"Not my fault Alberich love me more than you."
"You always make him smile. You should have seen him when he caught wind of you. It was like someone had set a fire under his seat, wouldn't sit still, wouldn't obey. You are a terrible influence."
"And he is a blessing in mine," she replied softly and kissed the boy's cheek.

Turning her gaze at last to her former companions Tiraris raised a brow in challenge to the mage. "So sleeping beauty decided to wake up at last, did she? You better thank this little boy for being in my arms mage or you would be flat on your back right now nursing quite the headache."

"Fiery is right" Atar muttered, loud enough to be heard if just faintly.  Dred tilted his slightly, his friend would ask him about that one later but for now he held his questions.  Oh, they had no idea what she could do if she wanted to.  He doubted even she did, he had TOUCHED the fount through her though, and gods was it powerful- not too powerful for him to wield, of course. He wasn't a child, or a fool.

Atar decided he liked Raflroi.  He was easy to talk to, not afraid of this woman, friendly, and open.  And he had a child. A sick child. The more he thought about it, the more he respected the man. Sick children were a sad sight, this one, in a different place, with different parents, would have been abandoned long ago.  He would commend the ones who cared the boy, silently, and in his own way. He had always liked children, it was a knife's edge he always thought, the way children annoyed you and endeared you to them.  Any grown man as obnoxious as a child and you would probably punch them in the face, but a child, well, they tended to be "cute" and it was every difficult to punch cute things even when they were an irritation.  A child's laughter came easy, it meant the world was right, and to them, it was, wasn't it?

Children were also typically defenseless, genuine, and too trusting of strangers.  These things, lessons he had seen in war and the world in general, were truths too often seen.  War took the lives of children, people abused them, people would rather see them suffer, because people were cruel.  The pain in his eyes was apparent for a brief moment, the memories of days past, of Adela soldiers fighting for the lives of children, not lives of their own, something that would be forgotten when the last of them was gone.  The anguish was gone, had been bled out long ago when he and Dred had talked about it.  Soldiers was always told to take the lives of children, in his experience, it was the one thing that their company had agreed never to do from that day forth.  One after another they had vowed.

The woman's quip brought Atar back to attention, drawing him from his memories.  "From the looks of it" He couldn't help the grin that creased his lips when he arched a brow and glanced her up and down "Flat on my back before you would not be an unfavorable position."  Oh, that was probably a mistake.  He really didn't know when to quit, wasn't in his blood, nor in his cousins, he knew.  Atar could see Dred stifling a laugh as he pulled his weight from his friend and took a step away, now standing on his own, he was trying not to laugh himself.  If he had the child to thank right now, odds were she would not let an improper jest set her upon him.  Best to get his licks in while he could.

Dred stepped away and couldn't help but snicker, he had taken note of the child and despite himself, he smiled.  "I want no part in this, I would, however, kindly ask for some water."

Tiraris smiled tightly, her teeth flashing briefly in a cruel smirk. She was more amused than offended by the comment having been made used to such comments through her line of work. "Did your mother ever teach you not to play with fire, Princess? Because I can assure you, I am fire and you are no tall, cool glass of water," the assassin fired back just as sweetly.

Raflroi chuckled and addressed Dred. "While these two decide to play at desert cats, I will take you to the family tent. You can get water, relax, and get something for those burns. They look ugly. Wouldn't want you getting a fever. Zeyna," he called back to Tiraris, "come when you are ready."

"I am ready now. I have had enough of this heat to last a lifetime," she muttered as she attempted to put Alberich down. The child howled and threw a temper-tantrum though, beating his fists and yanking at her hair. Even when she held him calmly in her arms again he did not stop until she had pulled the hood of his cloak up and rocked him close.

"I thought he had grown out of that."

The father shook his head. "You are still the only one he likes to be around. Even Mya, my wife," he added for the benefit of the men, "is unable to quell his fits let alone keep them from happening. I told you, you should have stayed Zeyna. He is atrocious when you leave. You're the only one who brings out the human in him."

The assassin did not respond, knowing it was not her fault and that she could not stay. Attachments were always painful. As it was she hated that the two men knew of her connections with Raflroi and his family, that Alberich was very special to her. It was a weakness and in her line of work there was no room for such things. But, one look at Alberich's big blue eyes and her cold, stone heart always crumbled.

Dred noted that the camp was mostly sleeping.  A few heads poked from tents to see what the commotion was but none remained visible for long.  Like most desert trains this one was large, caravans in and out of the desert, especially merchant or pilgrims, normally planned to travel in strength with a high number of guards for escort, and very few passengers that were not capable of handling themselves, even the women in this parade would be scary if they were attacked.

It was, he knew, a defense mechanism.  He had seen pilgrimages before, desert people who lived in Adela, who would travel once a year to the glass desert for worship, and then perhaps to the city.  The journey, he knew from his own experience, was a tough one.  Dangers abound in this desert, but it didn't stop people.  The size of the caravans was thought of as a protective measure against bandits, though particularly smart bandits would harry those that lagged behind, hitting quick enough that the guards could not respond in number, spread as they were along the caravan.  Bandits these days were few in the Moraki, the only thriving bands near canyons or caves where ground water could sustain life, if this train had been scouted, they would be hit when in a less than favorable position, winding through canyons and crevasses.

They were in no immediate danger from bandits, had they been, or were they to be, the mage would call them out long before that happened.  The man was uncanny, his ability to spot danger before it struck, it was part of the reason they were both still alive.  Atar was much more than he seemed and Dred had known this for years, play dumb as the mage might Dred, and anyone who talked to the mage for more than an hour, could see through this charade.  Werglk on the other hand, could easily send....something.... after them, and that something might remain undetected for a long while.  While he was present here, he would have to keep his mind sharp.  Begin thinking for a second you are safe, and that is when disaster normally strikes.  When magic was involved, especially THAT necromancer, he knew to remain cautious.

Dred canted his head into a nod and stepped into the tent following Raflroi.  Atar sneered at Silverd'art and snickered aloud.  "Princess?" he spat, managing to look indignant.  More like the lord of darkness eternal, whose shadows would quell your flames in a moment, starved of their lifeblood.  "Someone ought teach you to wield those flames, lest you burn yourself and your young friend their to ashes."  the tone of his voice changed, inflection hinting genuine concern as he gestured to the child clinging to Tiraris.  It was a raw power, hers, unrefined, and abundant.  Since he had spotted Werglk Atar had wondered why the mage had traveled with her.  That much untapped power was dangerous alone, he knew the nercomancer would have had plans for her, but one would need to have spoken to him to learn of them.  Unless she knew.

The child's fit abated, and Atar followed the other men into the tent, pausing as he passed Tiraris, he eyed her skeptically, then moved inside.

"What makes you think I have no control over myself?" she hissed angrily as she followed close behind Atar. Inside she was slightly panicked as she tried to access the core of her magic. 'I do not understand. It seems pretty normal even for me. It is a bit agitated but not enough to be physically visible.' Sure enough the fiery yellow core within her was larger, bubbling and spinning at a quicker pace within her, but not really something to be overly concerned about at this point.

Still gently rocking Alberich, Tiraris sat down and glared at the mage. "What right do you have to judge me, to consider me volatile? You do not even know me. Considering I am not the one that mistakenly dragged himself and two others into the middle of the desert and then passed out, I really believe I am not the one who should be considered dangerous. Your weakness endangers everyone around you as they become obligated to protect you. It really is quite pathetic."

She continued to hurl insults at the man even as the others within the tent fell silent, some out of awe and others out of fear. Mya pursed her lips but otherwise remained silent. She never liked the assassin's company but never argued about it with her husband in front of his guests. Their four other daughters also scowled in varying states of disgust at Tiraris, the youngest one even going so far as to stick her tongue at the woman when Mya's back was turned.

The eldest however, was more focused on the two men sharing her family's space. Shyly she offered Dred'Rikath a waterskin and filled a bowl with water to wipe a cool rag across his face and neck. Yet, every so often she would cast a fearsome glare at the redhead as the woman ranted at the other attractive newcomer.

The wards the mage set came naturally, only those with the most acute senses towards magic would have even felt them being placed, Dred was used to this but it didn't stop the hairs on the back of his neck from standing on end.  It was almost imperceptible, night in this desert was nearly silent but the workings of the magic to hush their voices to outsiders worked both ways, thus the sounds of the night hushed almost without notice.  Most people felt that the workings of such magics, without permission, was an afront.  He understood the reason Atar did it. Sometimes he wondered if Atar did it intentionally, or if it was just so much a part of routine that he didn't think about it.  "Do not let your heart sink in the shadows, friend, for when working shadow magic it invites the very gloom that darkness reflects into the light" Atar had told him the first time.  Those who were sensitive to magic could hear, or see things when encompassed such.  

He was beyond them now, could ignore the whisperings of ethereal voices that offered haven to pain and suffering.  Silverd'art would not be consumed by them either, he knew as much without even confronting the two about the magic.  He watched as the mage took a seat next to him.  Dred tilted his head back, took a deep draught from the water skin, sighing as parched throat and lips cried out for more, but restrained himself.  "Gratitude..." he whispered to the girl as she took the water skin back.  His skin felt hot against water soaked rag, his head drifted slightly as the girl carefully pressed it to sun burnt skin. No pain radiated from his scars.  He wondered at the severity of the burns but would not ask, he would rather not know.  Judging by Silverd'art, they must not be too awful as she seemed in pretty good health.

Atar's cool eyes drifted about the tent, counting people and nodded as he finished on Tiraris and Alberich.  He looked drained felt it, too, but as always the facade of confidence never melted away.   The woman was right, he had endangered them in what he had done, but she didn't know the extent of what had happened the moment he touched Werglk's gate.  It was, probably something he should address openly with her, in private.  In fact, he doubted now that the village they had left even survived the wake of the magics the necromancer had used.  Desperation had made him use her, desperation had made him fling them halfway across a continent through a collapsing gate after Werglk.  He hadn't fully comprehended what had happened, but it had been a trap, as if the necromancer had known he would try to follow him.

Arcane workings were complicated, and while he considered himself a master of using them, interpreting what you were seeing FEELING at the time of something crucial, were often hard to read.  The gate was not of a type he had seen before, they usually took weeks of practice to perfect, rituals and wards, runes and fae chants...no, the man had simply tore a hole into the lifeblood of arcanum and flung himself to Serendipity- somewhere.  Following him was the only choice left when he had touched that flow, and if not for the red haired woman, they would all be dead.  Maybe he wouldn't tell her.

"You are right, girl, I made a mistake, a dreadful awful mistake and it could have killed us all."  He looked glum at the admission, though he thought she wouldn't catch the deeper reasons for his admission.  Dred looked surprised suddenly, his eyes opening wide as his attention turned.  "It takes a woman for you to admit you're wrong?  Typical."  the swordsman grunted, gesturing that the girls' ministrations were enough.  "Raflroi!.  It is with gratitude we accept your hospitality.  The tale of how we got here... is a strange one.  It is important, for my ease of mind, that you understand by housing us you may well put your family in danger, may put this entire caravan in danger.  Under your care we shall do what we can to preserve the safety of you and yours, as is expected, unless you deem us unworthy and too much of a danger."  He was speaking Essymi again, the mage seemed to follow every word but didn't offer a response, his eyes were on Alberich, studying the boy.

A moment passed between husband and wife before Mya demurely lowered her gaze. His own eyes then landed on Tiraris. Unlike the other woman, the assassin had no desire to participate and only rolled her eyes. Clearing his throat, Raflroi answered Dred'Rikath in Essyrni while casting nervous glances at the woman holding his only son.

"This is not the first time we have housed Zeyna. We know full well the storm she brings with her. There is nothing for you gentlemen to be concerned about. Our little lady here is well-known to this caravan. We hold no fear of the dust that may fly."

He chuckled then ruffling red, sand-filled locks of hair, earning a hate-filled look from Tiraris as she tugged at her left ear in attempt to ear. She was sure that the normal outdoor sounds had quieted and it disturbed her greatly. Her hearing was one of her traits that she prized dearly, especially within her field of profession. This new deafness was discomforting.

With a grunt and a whine, Alberich threw off the hood and cloak, uncaring of where it landed and raised a shaking hand to ruffle her hair as well. Unable to turn cruel red eyes on such a sweet thing, she was forced to laugh good-naturedly. "Silly," she cooed to him, cuddling him close much to the boy's growling and gibberish squawking.

"But in truth my friends, we are all equals here. Let us speak in common," the patriarch declared with open arms as he sat beside his wife. Tiraris snorted as her eyes followed the two eldest now. Hafsah had moved on from Dred'Rikath to Atar'Ashi and again offered him the waterskin as she re-wet her cloth to treat his own burns. In her place the next eldest, Fayruz shyly brought a plate of food over. She would not look up at either of the men even as her tanned cheeks warmed and flushed and her fingers nervously played with the ends of her hair.

"Yes of course because it would not do for the children to understand what is going on here," Tiraris replied back, knowing full well that Raflroi's five young ones had never learned to speak common despite its usefulness. In her lap Alberich managed to turn himself so he was facing the room. An occasional nonsensical word would come out as he would point to something. Sometimes the sounds were the same for different things. Distractedly his head lolled about as his eyes took in everything as if for the first time before settling on the mage.

He felt drawn to the warmth and strangeness that came from the man. It was different than Zeyna's he had resolved, not nearly as fun to play with but definitely new and darker. His blue eyes stared ahead of him as he began to poke and prod this new ball, testing to see what would happen if it was pulled this way or pushed that way.

Atar took a drink, deeper than his last and gestured back to the swordsman, shooing the girl away from him politely.  Dark narrow eyes were focused on the child before him, the prodding poking and pulling unnerved him, he was an adept talent, not that he could not shield himself from the child, it would be a cold thing to do he thought. "Stop that."  He said, eyes clearly on Alberich.  The silence that had surrounded them moments before was sundered, ripped away by the child ministrations with careless ease.  Not intentional, no, he was clearly just experimenting with it.  He liked the child even more now, fearless that one.  "Grab hold of it and stop poking, you need to grasp firmly and hold tight lest you hurt someone." Atar was speaking common, and wondered if the child understood him. From his squawking he gathered not... but still, maybe.  He fidgeted as eyes turned to him, suddenly looking uncomfortable from where he sat.  Dred pulled his sheathed sword and cloak from his belt, laying the dusty cloak next to him, the sword he placed across his lap, sitting cross legged.  

Dred watched as the mage beside him raised an arm, palm turned upward, hand flat and fingers open.  Green flames licked his fingers and sprung to life, colors changing rapidly as the bright hues drained out of them leaving only grays and blues.  Rapidly the flames collapsed on themselves, chilled to what appeared to be ice, curled into a ball, and appeared to be simply made of shadow. The coalesced shadows were no longer than the mans thumb. After a moment of its solidity Atar passed the fingers of his free hand through the ethereal shadow ball, then offered it to Alberich.  "Your son is an adept."  He stated flatly, glancing at Raflroil, then to Silverd'art, then to  Mya.  The magic he was offering the child was harmless, a childs' practice tool in many schools.  The magic could be pulled and prodded but would fade completely away with a lack of focus on it.

Dred seemed uneasy, Tiraris was fixing a hate filled look on Raflroil, the swordsman shifted his position slightly and leaned forward, right hand picking up a piece of fruit, canted his head to Raflroil once more, then took a bite of the deliciously sweet, moist morsel.  Freshly harvested from a brand of cacti on their way he knew, scarce unless in season.  "Your kindness is well received, and shall be matched in any way that we can afford.  Might I inquire of your planned route?"  the common tongue rolled easily from his tongue, even in the tired and rugged state he was in, he managed to keep his tone polite, but commanding.  He realized his eyes hadn't left Alberich, and that the mage hadn't moved yet.  Atar was starting to look a little agitated, as if perhaps he was wrong.  "Zeyna, it appears you are more familiar with this desert than you lead me to believe."  He wasn't surprised that she had sheltered the information, not all were confident to open and forward about themselves.  "Long story short, Raflroil, my friend and I are bounty hunters, we were seeking a kidnapped Adelan high born child, who was a mage, kidnapped and sold into slavery by Connlaoth.  Mordecai were in pursuit of the child, accused of using magery in Connloath of course, the child's guide killed her companion and her, as mordecai set upon the village they were at.  We killed the Mordecai" he gestured to the mage and Silverd'art "And then came across a man, a necromancer, we know from years past, and moments after that arrived in the desert."

Hafsah pouted at being turned away but settled down close to Dred, going so far as to shoo her sister away as she took a piece of fruit for herself and sucked on its nectar. Alberich meanwhile turned to ignoring the mage. The magic did not entice him to play and instead made him glare and stick his tongue out at the men. He had achieved what he wanted; his Zeyna had stopped tugging at her ear.

However, very slowly the ball began to unravel as if made of yarn. A strand moved bit by bit to wrap around the assassin's arm like a bangle until it was all there. Alberich let it sink into her skin like a tattoo even as he gazed elsewhere. Tiraris however was having none of it. Her breath became shallow and her nostrils flared. It was not painful but uncomfortable, moreso because she disliked the magic rather than it causing any harm. She tried shaking her arm but it remained.

Alberich finally realized it, forming it into a thin haze in front of him. For a brief second, Tiraris could have sworn she saw the face of her beloved and she froze. But, just as quickly as it had come it was gone with the child's angry huff. He blew on it fiercely as one blows on a candle, sending it like smoke into Atar's face.

"Do not call me Zeyna," the assassin at last said as Raflroi was still silently watching his son. "It is autumn; they go to Essyrn to do their trading before before winter arrives. Even in the desert there is cold and treacherous sandstorms can kill even the wisest and strongest man."

"Aye my thorny rose, you remember your time here well," the man chuckled, at last regaining his tongue. "We ask for no payment. Watching over this one is payment enough. The situations she manages to get herself into," he shook his head, "it is a wonder she is still alive. I cannot thank you enough for looking out for her, especially with those Mordecai. I have not heard anything good about them. I always fear for her safety as if she were my own."

"I resent that."
"You resemble that."

The two stared each other down before she groaned and looked away, her gaze falling on the girls. "So what, I do not get any water now?" A wet rag splatted heavily as it was thrown into her face. "Uncalled for," she grumbled before using it to wipe at her own face and neck.

Atar discreetly stuck his own tongue out at Alberich, watching with great interest as the boy manipulated the shadows.  The boy was eloquent, and showed such ease and patience with the material that he was almost in awe.  Rare talent, indeed.  This child was a danger, not in his potential but in what his potential could attract, dangers his family would not need to know about , but would likely face in the desert should they travel it long enough, old things that were attracted to powers, or those that touched power.  He realized, a bit late, that he should probably be afraid of what the child could do, but could not find distrust in the child, he was, after all, a child, and, the child was making his current nemesis uneasy.  "Afraid of some shadows, Zeyna?" he asked and grinned again.  Gods it had been long since he had had this much fun.  It was probably a sign of poor social skills, or an abundance of solitude, that he could find so much gratification out of agitating one woman, he would think on that later.

He caught Dred glance at Hafsah for a brief moment as he took another piece of fruit, the mage waggled indecisive fingers before plucking a piece for himself and popping it into his mouth, then rolled his eyes as the boy stuck his tongue out at them again.  "Indeed, if not for my knight friend here"  Atar paused a moment, dark eyes glistening as they moved from Dred to Tiraris.  "That mordecai that knew her would have, well, that doesn't matter because they all died anyway.  Does she have bad luck?  I would say good luck, the way she rolled off that roof into my arms was like an angel falling from heaven, lucky for you I was there to catch you."

Dred almost laughed and realized it would be a poor decision.  It had been long, long years since he had seen his friend like this, and he realized that even he was enjoying the break of monotony.  "The fruit is refreshing"  Dred interjected, an attempt at keeping peace.  " Raflroi, where may we rest before the evenings march?  I have decided that Atar and I shall accompany the caravan to the city."

The assassin growled at Atar's taunts before smiling sweetly and plopping Alberich into his lap. "Here, a present for you since you seem so entranced." The child scowled and squirmed but did not get up either. "As for the other matter, Atar. I believe it is you not I who is the lucky one. After all I have not killed you yet and if an angel I am then you are blessed with my very presence," she continued in a dangerously sweet tone of voice.

"In addition to that, I would not have fallen if someone had not blown up the building I had been standing on. Now I wonder who that could be." Raflroi's eyes widened as he watched the woman's ire rise. It was only her calming hand on his shoulder as she passed him that had him smiling again.

Patting her hand, he sent her off to change in a divided corner of the tent and returned to addressing his other guests. He leaned forward as soon as she was gone though and lowered her voice. "Careful how you tease her boys. She hits twice as hard as she's been hit and could wait a century before lashing back."

Louder then, he continued. "As for travel, we will stay put for the night. You all need your rest and I think we have cause to celebrate." Raflroi winked and chuckled. "We will travel come light until our midday rest and then travel again. Never you worry though, we are glad to have the company of you three."