Luthain sat back in his chair, and let the last few words of his epic tale hang in the air between him and his audience. He smiled to himself at the soft sound of breathing that you can only really hear when a room is dead silent. Then, one by one, the patrons started tapping their glasses, mugs, and bottles on their tables.... softly at first, then with growing conviction. Luthain stood and gave a small bow. The tale of Krohlm's Crossing always caused a stir, when it was told correctly. A few of the men in the crowd came up to offer Luthain a hand and a slap on the back. A few backed up their congratulations with ale, but most just smiled and walked away shaking their heads and wondering why they'd never heard that little tidbit of history before. A few of the women were shooting him looks past their lovers' shoulders that could end in daggers if he wasn't careful. One man, however, sat in his seat near the back of the common room. He didn't rise and follow the rest back to the bar or to the dart board and dicing tables. Instead, he waited. When the crowd was finally thinning out, the man raised his glass in invitation, and Luthain walked over to join him. As he did so, his right hand rested casually on the head of the axe he kept in the loop at his belt. The stranger glanced at the axe, but didn't say anything. Instead, he nodded to the empty seat across the table, so Luthain sat. "My name is Krave," The man said, "And I hear we are looking for the same thing." Luthain frowned, his eyes narrowing, "I'm not sure I know what you mean," He replied carefully. "I am looking for a particular Wizard," Krave said, leaning forward and fixing Luthain with an intense stair, "He has long gray hair and a long gray beard...goes by the name of Jupiter. Heard of him?" Luthain nodded slolwy, "Yes, I've heard the name. I understand he stops by here from time to time, and he's a regular in the Village proper. Not sure I know where he is now, though." Krave nodded and relaxed visibly, "I have been told he is sometimes.....difficult..... to pin down." Luthain snorted, "That's an understatement if I've ever heard one." Krave smiled, "That was a fascinating tale you told up there," He said, suddenly changing subjects. Luthain nodded, "My thanks. Krohlm was my seventh Great-Father. My family has kept his legacy alive all these generations, though history is sometimes not as kind." Krave nodded thoughtfully, "One day I'll have to tell you about the Wyrm that attacked my tribe, and how we defeated it." Luthain nodded, "Sounds like a worthy tale, and I look forward..." Luthain trailed off as a man shoved open the door and stepped imperiously into the room. He glared around the common room, a sneer of disdain twisting his face. He looked like he wanted to spit. Luthain had seen him before, though he didn't know the man by name. Once, outside of Minoc, this man had barged into a gypsy wedding feast Luthain had been invited to. He left without incident, but three days later the head of the bride's family was found with two daggers in his back. A blood feud began and both families were nearly ruined. Then, years later, in Moonglow this man had tried to board a ship that was docked. Luthain was part of the crew of handlers unloading that particular ship, and he remembered the man's eyes. That night, the cargo ship had caught fire and burned to the water line, with all hands on board lost. Luthain was spared because he passed out in the back of a tavern after a bad night with the dice. It was months later that he'd found out a prominent noble's daughter had been a stowaway onboard in the cargo hold. The man's eyes locked on Luthains, then they took in Krave sitting next to him. The man turned, and stalked out, slamming the door behind him. Krave frowned, "Did you know him?" Luthain shook his head, "No, I was hoping you did. I recognized him, and what I suspect about him isn't good. He seemed to know one of us, though, and that's probably not good either." "What should we do?" Krave asked, his hand going over his right shoulder to the hilt of a scimitar slung across his back. "First, we should leave," Luthain answered, rising and sprinkling a few gold coins on the table, "That should more than cover our ales. Let's get our horses and head for somewhere more public." Krave nodded, and they both walked outside. They mounted their horses, and Luthain was just turning his to the South east, toward Trinsic, when he felt a web of paralysis settle over him and his horse, Iago. He struggled to turn and see Krave, but he couldn't move even his eyes. He heard the sounds of spells landing, as well as blows from a weapon of some sort, though, and then there was silence. Three men rode around to face Luthain, the one from the inn taking the lead. He nudged his horse close enough that he could whisper in Luthain's frozen ear, "Don't meddle in things beyond your understanding, axe-man." Suddenly, sweat burst out on Luthain's forehead. He smelled the thick, acrid stench of burning sulfer and flesh, and felt the flamestrike take hold. Every muscle in his body seemed on fire, and then the force of an explosion threw him ten feet through the air, and he landed hard on his side. Dazed, with blood running down the side of his charred face, Luthain struggled to rise to his feet. "Stubborn wretch," One of the assassins hissed, and Luthain turned towards the voice. The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was the snaking, writhing bolt of energy speeding for his chest.
"I'm sorry sir, but what did you say your name was again?" The young paige asked, his voice carefully toned to convey just the proper amount of deference for a somewhat shady looking figure arriving unannounced at his Lord's manor, demanding an audience. Dorian just smiled, "Mr. Sandiclar. I promise you, if you say that name to your Lord, he will ask to see me at once." The paige bowed his head and managed to almost hide the disbelief in his eyes. No matter, though. Dorian took the liberty of walking through the room, feeling the finely upholstered chairs and one incredibly intricate and well-balanced clock hanging on the wall. There were detailed and vibrant tapestries on two walls, and a massive painting of a misty sunrise hanging over the fireplace. In a glass case at the far end of the chamber was a huge axe. The metal had a distinct dark rippling pattern and angular runes etched into the head and balancing spike. More runes covered the shaft of the handle and the metal counter-weight at the bottom end. Dorian began reading the runes, and his eyes widened. A clear cough from behind him suddenly pulled Dorian back to reality, and he turned to find a very unhappy Lord LaFayne tappling his boot. "I thought after our last....discussion...." Lord LaFayne began, "That we agreed it would be unwise to meet in person again." Dorian smiled, "What with your shining reputation, and all, right? You know, Lord LaFayne, it might shock you to find out that my name does still have a considerable amount of good credit to it.......among certain circles, of course." LaFayne snorted, "Certain circles.... yes. In any case, why are you here?" Dorian's eyes narrowed, "I just thought you might like to hear in person that the job was done. Your....friend....... will be happy to hear that his daughter is on the way back home to him. And you don't have to worry about a very costly, very illegal war suddenly breaking out." "Yes, and you have been well compensated for your efforts," LaFayne growled, "Now, why are you here?" "Well compensated, yes.... but not repaid," Dorian said with a grin, turning to face LaFayne, "Do you know what you have here?" "Of course I do," LaFayne said, "It is an extremely rare runic axe of repond and vanquishing. If you believe the legends, it once belonged to Krohlm of Brae. Get to your point." Dorian stroked his smooth, well-oiled beard and smiled at the Lord, "You should be more careful, Lord LaFayne. You see, I didn't just return the nobleman's daughter to him. I made the nobleman think he had managed it himself, with a little timely information and assistance from me. Now, I am a trusted friend of that nobleman, and someone who has his ear in council. So, if I were to suddenly say to him that I had discovered a plot on behalf of one Lord LaFayne of Trinsic to kidnap and defile his daughter, well then that nobleman would be inclined to listen. And suddenly, that war I hellped you avoid isn't avoided anymore." LaFayne's face paled visibly, and he took an involuntary step back. "I know, not strictly in keeping with the spirit of our contract," Dorian said, turning to admire a painting in a small alcove on one wall, "But not technically in violation of the letter of it either. So, as I say, I have done you a great favor in avoiding this war, and now it is time for you to do a favor for me in return." "And what is that?" Lord LaFayne asked, his voice shaking slightly. Dorian grinned, but didn't turn to face LaFayne, "It doesn't really matter, does it? You're going to do it, no matter what it is. But, lucky for you, it is very simple and well within your power. You are currently holding a knight by the name of Catalin. I want you to release him and clear him of all charges." LaFayne blinked, "But..." Dorian raised a hand, but still didn't turn, "I am not going to tell you the reason, no matter what you ask. But, know this, if you release this man, then our debts are clear, and you are free of them. You have my word." "Your word," LaFayne muttered, shaking his head. Dorian spun around and jabbed a finger at the deflated lord, "Don't forget Lord LaFayne, you came to me. You can spit and mutter about the circles I move in, but you came to me for help. Not the other way round. I expect Catalin to be released within the hour." "You're not going to wait for him?" LaFayne asked, confused. Dorian smiled, "He can find his own way home, I'm sure. And he must not know it was I who secured his release. Just make him think it was some new evidence or testimony that proved his innocence, and release him." "Well, I guess now you've been repaid in full," LaFayne said, giving his tacit agreement. Dorian chuckled, "By you. However, there is a certain very powerful nobleman in Nu'Jelom that now owes me a great deal. And I do take favors very seriously."
Luthain's eyes shot open and his lungs emptied in a ragged cry of pain; his body's last memory flaring briefly to haunt him. Just as quickly as it came, though, the intense agony and fear passed, and he lay breathless on his back, staring up at the stars overhead, and a very dirty, but smiling face. The man had a long full beard tangled with twigs, leaves, and stones, half of which seemed to be there with intent. His head was shaved bald and laced with the thin pale lines of scars from years of hard traveling. The man's face was split in what seemed a perpetual, albeit sincere, grin as he helped Luthain to his feet. A thin, gray death shroud covered Luthain from head to foot, but his belongings were neatly folded beside the dying embers of a camp fire. The smoke smelled heavily of the burned herbs the wandering healer had used to bring his spirit back from the edge of death. Luthain blinked and rubbed his eyes hard. His head was still swimming with the lingering effects of being dead. He shuddered and went about gathering his belongings and dressing himself. The healer silently whent over to a pot that was sitting in the coals to check whatever was inside. When the healer lifted the lid with a metal fire hook, the smells that wafted out were enough to set Luthain's stomach growling. The healer carefully took a wooden bowl from his pack and spooned it full of a thick, simmering stew that smelled of wild rabbit, carrots, and barley. Luthain immediately dug in his pack and counted out twenty gold pieces for the healer, and held them out. The man smiled a kindly smile, but shook his head firmly, and extended the bowl again. "He won't take gold," A familiar voice said suddenly from behind, and Luthain nearly jumped out of his skin. "Goat kissing son of a sheep's mare!" Luthain exclaime, spinning around, "You sneak up on a man like that, Krave, and he's likely to split your head!" Krave grinned, "Sorry, but I wasn't trying to be sneaky. He brought me back a couple of hours ago, but you were tougher. He kept muttering something about dragging a weight through wet sand, and the darkness reaching," Krave leaned over close to Luthain and whispered, "I think he's off in the head." Suddenly, the healer's eyes snapped up to Krave, and narrowed. For a brief moment, it was plain that his mind was clear and sharp. Then, in a flash, the man was back to grinning and offering Luthain the bowl of stew. Luthain took the bowl with a shrug, and began devouring it. The healer smilled, and bobbed his head a couple of times, the trinkets in his beard clicking. When he turned back to the fire, Luthain carefully slipped the gold coins into the healer's pack. The stew was good and thick, and steaming hot. Luthain had to blow on each spoonful, and it was still nearly too hot to swallow, but he was ravenous. The spell to bring him back had taken every ounce of stored energy in his body, and he badly needed to replace it. "So," Krave said, sitting down across the dim fire from Luthain, "What do you think that was all about?" "What, you mean the sudden attack and murdering?" Luthain asked around a mouthful of stew. The healer laid a few bundles of sticks on the fire, and they quickly caught, rekindling its light and warmth. He grinned and bobbed his head a few times, then turned and disappeared into the woods around them. Luthain stared around in amazement. The healer hadn't simply left, he'd vanished without a sound. "He does that," Krave said, shaking his head, "And yeah, I mean that. Did they rob you?" "No," Luthain replied, tilting his head, "You?" "They didn't take a thing," Krave replied, confused. "I think they were professionals," Luthain said finally, "Someone sent here to kill us. And I think it was a clear message." "They could have been sent after one, and not the other," Krave said after a moment. Luthain shook his head, "They could have easily killed either of us and left the other, so why bother killing both? It just took longer, and left them more exposed." "They didn't want to leave witnesses," Krave said. "I don't think they were worried about witnesses," Luthain countered, "Did they say anything to you before they killed you?" Krave's eyes narrowed, "Did they say anything to you?" "That's not an answer," Luthain replied, his eyes narrowing. "Neither is that," Krave said, "I suppose one of us, at least, had a run-in with the wrong person." "Or," Luthain said, his voice suddenly serious, "We were both about to have a run-in with the right one. I think we need to find Jupiter." "Agreed," Krave said, nodding his head. Both men stood and gathered their packs. As they started to turn away from the fire, the healer came walking up from the woods smiling and bobbing his head. He had a bundle of wild onions and two bunches of parsley tied to his belt, a rope pouch of finger-sized wild potatoes, and two bundles of firewood tied to his back. Still, he'd somehow managed to move without a sound until he was almost on top of them. As he passed Luthain, the healer reached out and dropped the twenty gold coins in his hand. Luthain blinked and stared at his hand, then at the healer's pack, which had been left by the fire the entire time. When he looked back at the healer, the man just patted Luthain lightly on the shoulder, smiled, and bobbed his head. As luthain and Krave walked away, the wandering healer set about his camp whistling merrily in perfect imitation of the nightlarks singing softly in the distance.
