9. Caer-Dineval

No, no I don't think it was giants. I think it may have been magic but some say that while the desert was being formed the Earth Primordials became frustrated with the playful Air Elementals for causing vortexes of wind that would lift all their work into the sky swirling it around before depositing the sand into a new landscapes. The Earth Primordials gathered to conspire to block the wind by compacting sand into solid rock causing a barrier to protect the loose sand from the wind. The Air Elementals were not amused. It was war. War that ended with the valley being filled with elongated corpses of the Primordials as the Elementals sucked out their life force. The wind certainly howls through the spires but perhaps it is the echo of ancient screams.
Oh, wouldn't it be wonderful if knowledge came to us that way? I have found that lessons are more likely to interrupt my sleep than not. Early morning seems to be the consensus of most masters of the time of best learning. These pillars are towers that hold a multitude of these masters.
Magic more powerful than Auril's? Now that is an interesting concept.

From the desert side stands the Gate of Sands. Glints of light reflect off of perfect replicas of massive scorpions paired on either side of the doors with their long stingers curled in a giant arc casting shadows on all that pass. Do not imagine to yourself these are the size of mounts. No! The Sultan has a stable full of scorpions for a special calvary but these are so much more grand than that. A gong rest on the wall above the doors readied with a mallet that if it hits the etched disc, then the reverberation will activate those constructs below to help defend the city with claw and venom.

But usually the constructs are only stilled witnesses as pack animals called camels...the ones that carry their own water in a hump... shuffle down one of the city's main boulevards bringing treasures from afar to the bazaar located in a central plaza, a feast of sights and sounds.

Leaving the desolation of the desert behind, palm trees offer shade while ceramic pots spill out blooms of various colors leading toward an extravagance only those who arrive from the desert would truly appreciate: a public fountain. Mist catches rainbows as the bowl sprays precious water into the air cooling the immediate vincinity. This fountain is not the The Wall of Faces that water runs out of carved eyes and mouths where the poor are expected to gather their water and bathe. No, the tortures by the city guard for those who would taint the water or disturb the floating pads or colorful fish kept it an oasis of calm while the rest of the plaza surges with energy.


Merchants of every kind squeezed together under tarps of as diverse as their merchandise. Under the nearest gold striped tent is a spice merchant. Bags of colored salt stacked to your waist...to your waist! Fennel, saffron, clove and my favorite, cinnamon were all available. Not just there but there was not much one couldn't find for a price.

Women dressed scantily in vest and thin pantaloons juggled plump oranges drawing a crowd to sell baskets of fruit. Have you ever had an orange? There is a thin peel that must be torn away to reach juicy meat that taste like sunshine on your tongue as its juice runs down your chin. I wish I had one to share with you now.

But not all had the curves to entice those to their stalls so voices were often raised shouting out the benefits of their wares. The babble of many different tongues could be heard as shopkeepers haggle. Although not all voices raised were due to trade. After afternoon prayers, by the fountain, wise ones with white in their beards gathered to play Barjees and Dama. The matter of honor was sometimes raised over minature cups of coffee.


Barriers inside started to break within the bard. These descriptions were not a random setting meant to cause stories to shine but descriptions of the home she left behind. Understanding that a return was not possible had barricaded desires that were now being released. Not even close to being finished...there was personalities like the madame of the bath house who shopped with a diamond choker cheetah collared at her side but emotion was starting to break through so Bells held it at bay with a common legend of a den of thieves who were outsmarted by a clever young man. Do you see how being clever can overcome the odds? I think you could be such a young man. Why not come with me to further your education and dedicate yourself to something meaningful?

Zinvaris sat resting his hands on his knees, enrapt in Bells' telling of her homeland. Never would he have dreamed of meeting someone from such a foreign land of wonders. She spoke of things that could only live in Zin's imagination, oranges, scorpions, desert sands... Zin had seen trading markets in his travels, but none compared to the bard's description of a bazar. So lost in ideas of walking through the arid streets with his new companion was Zinvaris, that he hardly heard the legend she conveyed. At her question of the young man joining the group, Zin stared at the woman with moisture lined eyes and stated. As the sun gives life to the forest, truly this woman gives life to the joy and wonder of this world. She can be the star that leads you to a life of meaning and love, young master. Please choose to follow her and you will see colors and details far beyond what you could have imagined. Zin turned from his seated position to stare at the boy, the wood elf's scar casting a stark contrast to the tight smile he wore. The darkness of your past need not cast shadows on your future...

As soon as possible, Anders flees the keep. He can't bring himself to re-enter the room with the boy, not after the way he had looked at Anders. Like he knew the ranger's deepest secret. And all the while, wearing that face. No, instead he rushes out into the snow. Snow he could handle. Open spaces, too.

As Bells and Zin handle everything within the fort, he does make himself useful watching over the exterior, and watching as others leave. And before long, the fear has left his eyes and is once again replaced by that damned primal ferocity. He is the wolf once again.

Zin stood on the parapet of the Caer, the cold wind billowing his cloak. The wood elf's blue eyes focused intently on the group of exiled men and women as they made their way out of sight of Caer Dineval. He had hoped he could provide those people a fresh start unburdened by their past. Some stains are too deep... Zin muttered to himself and then winced, realizing how similar to his father's words he had just voiced. He looked at the group again. ...May the wind be ever in your branches and water underfoot... I hope you find your way back to the light... The scarred elf began humming a tune of mourning into the biting wind.

While Ander's sat outside the room and Bells weaved her tale, Okto stood at the doorway. Never making eye contact or approaching Anders too much, but making his presence clear. Okto didn't know how to help his old friend at this point, but wanted to make his offer of protection and support apparent. And even though there's been no reciprocation, or even acceptance, of this help yet, Okto decides that he must keep offering it, he will take it eventually. Chekhov's kindness. (Chekhov of course being a traveling bard who passed through town a while ago, trying to get the sailors excited about theater, before moving on when threatened with becoming their ship's anchor)

Okto smiles excitedly as Zin gathers and places all of the cursed talismans and shards into one big pile in the center of the Caer. He waits to ensure that Zin, Rayne, and the kennel boy are watching as he hoists his warhammer high above his head. With one big swing, he smashes his warhammer into the pile and casts Shatter at the same time, giving it the (easily debunkable) illusion that the force of his swing caused a small explosion and tremors in the ground.

"Ah, that felt good." he says standing over the mound and scattering of shattered glass.

How could every word that bubbled from Zinvaris' tongue be like the springs that feed an oasis in the desert offering life against a barren landscape? Of course, the words were meant for Huarwar persuading him to a new path to walk in this world but Bells felt like her soul was a bloom with petals opening wide drinking in the life giving water. What would it take to have Zin pluck her as his instead admire her as just part of the flora? Probably nothing lamented the bard as an image of a proper demure blonde elf flashed in front of her eyes.
Bells shook her head to disapaite her competition's image. A victory had been achieved with this young man, in addition, to the caer which should extend to the town itself. A sense of satisfaction stole over her thinking that wherever her and the Charms traveled, they left it better than when they arrived. Bells leaned over squeezing Zin's knee in gratitude before embracing the boy in a quick hug. It certainly is! Now tomorrow a sled will arrive with mead. You shall be on the return voyage to Good Mead after it's delivery. I will write out a letter with introductions including instructions for you to give Mistress Olivessa. As my....ward? Close enough for now, you may pick out a room for yourself in my home. We will discuss future educational plans on my return but I do not expect you to be slack in the meantime...there is training with the Huskies, learning of herbs and healing with the Sisters, numbers with Mistress Olivessa, not to mention a library that I expect you to find something of interest to read. If that sounds acceptable to you then once we have everything secure, gather your belongings and say your farewells. Any questions?

Pointing at the black crystal, Please remove. Zin, will collect it.

---

It was fitting that someone with such a pure heart, Okto, had crushed the very essence of evil. Unfortunately, evil had a way of consuming everything in its parasitic relationships leaving very little to redeem and thus it was so with the majority of the soldiers at the caer. Turned out to Auril's embrace, their progress was marked by an elf on high whose swirling cape and hair seemed menacing until that melody of greatest sorrow drifted to your ear.

Letting Zinvaris time to mourn, Bells was as the bottom of the stairs reaching out a hand to cup his scarred cheek. Not knowing if the wound was still sensitive causing pain even now, Bells used a gentle touch.You might not have saved them all but you saved one. And in the future there will be one more and then one more. Zinvaris, you are the kind of man with a heart that makes a difference in this world so cry but don't despair.

When his companions emerge from the keep, the ranger stands alone. Even if approached, he gives the impression of distance. A turmoil rages in his head, and it is evident on his face. He looks to the west, though nothing lines up with his gaze. He looks beyond the horizon, beyond the snowfall, beyond the frost heaves. And just when he seemed lost in the distance, he speaks.

"I would speak with you, my friends," says Anders, though he seems to struggle with the last word. As though he weren't sure it was the right one, or if it were true. "I have a task before me that I do not truly wish to undertake, and could not possibly handle on my own. There is something of my past that I must settle, and it will take us all into grave peril. Not just from the landscape and remote travel, but also from me. I would see to it that you are compensated for your time." The last sentence, strangely, stings. It would seem he does not trust any of you to come along of your own good will, but only as hired help.

"West of here, further west than any of you have seen in this land, is a vessel. It's location has been burned in my memory. I must walk the steps once more and confront the demons that lurk within." And just like that, he stops talking. As though there was nothing more to be said on the subject.

Okto walks out of the caer next to Anders' monstrous familiar, and though everything in his body is telling him not to, he reaches out to pet and scratch the beast while Anders tells the group of his desires.

Okto tilts his head and smiles at Anders, happy that his friend is finally accepting help and desires to do something about whatever has been causing him grief as of late. Even though Okto has never had much, he can't help himself but say "Anders, knowing that your demons have been defeated will be all the compensation we'll need, you wouldn't owe us a single copper even if you dragged us through the bottom of the Abyss and back."

He looks over his shoulder to the caer, then to Zin and Rayne, and then back to Anders, "We just spent all day disposing of some of their skeletons, now it's your turn, whether you like it or not." Okto playfully and lightly punches Anders in the shoulder.

As Bells reached to touch his scarred face Zin's eyes flashed in surprise, a million thoughts raced through his mind. Amidst the whirlwind, a dominating vision overpowered the rest. A memory of being in the grove with the goddess of his heart as she stroked the wound that defined Zinvaris' life. He had reacted with rage at Mielikki's touch, but Zin recognized that Mielikki had been preparing him for this exact moment. A moment of total release of bitterness and hatred over the ill fate that separated him from his father, his community and what he saw as a normal life. Zinvaris closed his eyes and let out a short sigh as Bells hand made contact with his face. At the bard's words, Zin opened his eyes rimmed with moisture. ...I... did nothing... it was your words... Bells. I... am just a leaf caught in your melodic wind. You lift me higher than I should ever be... and have blown me to places I never thought I could reach. As he spoke, Zin raised his hand to hold Bells' wishing this moment of true sharing could last.

---

Zinvaris kept his gaze fixed on Anders, even as the man seemed to be fixed on the distance. At Okto's words, Zinvaris shook his head and placed a hand on the ranger's shoulders. My blades will be next to yours Anders... as Okto says, for no reason other than to help you face these demons together. Zin smirked slightly Although if you take us to the Abyss, some that I sent there may make our lives even more difficult. With his piece said, the wood elf clapped the ranger on the back and moved off to get Nippers ready to ride.

Surveying the spoils left from the disbanded cult, Bells thumbed through a stack of leather breastplates before lifting one up. The weight caused the bard to take a step back but quickly she rebalanced herself. Blowing a curl that had fallen forward from out of her face, Bells has her attention focused on Rayne, By no means am I an expert of the proper wardrobe of a warrior but this seems of fine quality. The stiffness makes me think it is cuir bouilli( boiled leather). I hope you concur because although plain and unmarked it could hold an emblem worked into the chest. I was thinking of a Husky after what you have done for defenses of Good Mead.

In addition to overall training, Good Mead should have a proper town watch as it grows. Nothing like a uniform to remind troublemakers that someone is watching. In your experience would something like this be a worthwhile investment? If so, Bells dropped the armor back on the table while dusting off her hands, would the lot of you be willing to sell your share to the town at a fair price? I don't know the current budget for expenditures in that area but extra revenue should be flowing into the town coffers from a recent business deal so payment would be guaranteed but perhaps to be paid at a future date. Of course, guards need more than armor. You more than anyone, Rayne, are versed in town's defenses What is your opinion on what is necessary that is here? Perhaps everyone can benefit from such a trade.

I don't think the alchemist fire should be included in Good Mead defenses. So compact, the bottles travel so conviently and might come in handy so everyone take two.

Some people can't accept comfort. Some are so fragile that any kindness might shatter them. The ranger seemed dangerously close to that edge so Bells refused to gush any sentimentality. Although it was with great difficulty, the bard didn't offer reassurance to the broken man. Anders....when are you going to learn to let me do the negotiations? But I guess you did well enough....I don't hear a refusal. However, before we head west, I need to see the coming wagon escorted along that last track of road. I know we didn't see bandits but we weren't carrying mead, either. Supplies will leave at first light so it may take most but not all of tomorrow. I'm sure we can rely on the hospitality of the Speaker for tonight.

"So be it."

It would appear he says this to all.