Vantick sat in the tavern, throwing mugs of ale down his gullet. The ghosts and the pains of past memories kept haunting him. He could see faces and hear voices that he'd never known in life, and they were as real as his own fingertips were now. Vantick....what a hollow word now. He knew that was not his name, merely the face he was wearing. It felt thin, somehow... Misused and torn, maybe. He could see that face in the mirror, feel it with his fingers... but somehow it wasn't him. He ran a hand throuh his hair and tried to focus. Was he going mad? Is this what it felt like to lose you grip on sanity? Or did the truly insane ever really realize just how deep they'd sunk? Vantick took another long, hard drink. And when he set his mug down, she was there. Vantick turned his head and spat on the tavern floor, fixing the unbelievably attractive woman with a cold, hard stare. "What do you want, witch?" He growled thorugh gritted teeth. The woman brushed a lock of deeply violet hair back from her face. Her deep emerald eyes seemed to burn with an internal fire as she spoke. Her voice was like the sweet smell of honeysuckles in the late summer sun. Vantick longed to reach out and touch her face... Yet, deep within him, the pit of fire burned. His free hand gripped the handle of a war axe, and he ground his teeth hard. He knew her. He'd been cheated by her... and the taste of it was still thick and bitter in his mouth. "You gave me an oath once," Fate said, her eyes sad, "And now I am calling it in." "You lied to me, witch," Vantick grated at the lovely young woman. If he thought it would do any good, he'd have buried the thick blade of the war axe at his belt in her head. He knew he could have done it. She was thin and delicate...all of the things he was not. But he was also dead sure that it wouldn't do one bit of good. And it just might piss her off. Fate dropped her eyes to the table between them. Suddenly, there was a pitcher of ale between them, and Fate reached over to pour him a fresh glass. Vantick eyed the liquid, but didn't dare drink it. Slowly, Fate raised her eyes to regard him. "You're right," She said at last, "I lied to you. I had to. Aren't you the one who once said, 'We all do what we have to so that what must be done is done.' ?" Vantick sighed heavily, but had to nod. He had said those words. "Very well," Fate said, sliding a book across the table to him, "When the time is right, you must give this to Zeddar." Vantick frowned, and looked down at the book. The cover was plain brown leather, and it was obviously very old. Ancient might be the better word. The only markign was an engraved SxC on the cover and on the spine. Vantick looked up, confused, but Fate held up one delicat hand. "Before you answer, you must know this," Fate said, her face suddenly dark and serious, her eyes seemed to flash with a deep and sinister light, "When you give this book to him, it will break him. It will drive him mad, and it will shatter everything he holds dear. And it must be done." Vantick grunted, "You tied that up pretty nicely, didn't you? You can't force me to work for you, so instead you set up a situation where I can't possibly say no and preserve my honor. Yes, I'll give it to him when you give me the word." Even as he said the words, Vantick felt the force of them sink into his soul. He had just callously agreed to betray one of his oldest and most trusted allies. He felt sick. Vantick looked at Fate, and growled, "This doesn't change the fact that you lied to me." Fate just shook her head slightly, "I never lied, Veyttin. I simply didn't tell you the whole truth. I told you that I would one day ask you a favor, and you would be bound by your sacred word of honor to carry it out without hesitation. In repayment I granted you any wish you desired. You were allowed to choose your payment." Vantick laughed visciously, "But you never told me what it would be like. I said I wanted to be able to keep the memories of my past lives. You never warned me how hard it would be... how much pain... how much loss.... adds up. You never said what a blessing it is to sometimes lose the remnants of what we were when we become what we are.... No.... You just opened the floodgates and hoped I could swim." Fate's eyes were sad when she finally met Vantick's hot gaze, "There's always a risk when someone is exposed to that.... It forces a decision on the soul. And even I can't tell which way those things are going to go until it happens. I weave what I can, when I can....and that's all I can ever do." Vantick's eyes squeezed shut. He refused to acknowledge the name she'd spoken, even to himself. He opened his eyes instead, and examined the book she'd slid him. "What is this?" Vantick asked, and Fate arched an eyebrow, "I've already agreed to give it to him, as you knew I would. I deserve to know at least what it is that will break one of my oldest allies." After a moment of petulant thought, Fate nodded, "Fine," She said, "Read it for yourself. Knowing what you know now, it might do you some good." Vantick opened the leather cover and read the first page: A History of Shadowcove and below that, in fine print, and the fall of Silvervale. When Vantick raised his eyes again, Fate was gone. The tavern had resumed its normal rhythm, and time seemed to be flowing again. When she was near, he never consciously noticed what time was like...but every time she left he had the distinct impression that time was back to "normal," whatever it had been moments before. Fate was right. This book would break Zeddar. And it would be delivered by his own hand. Vantick swallowed back bitter bile in his throat. He would do what he had to so that what must be done, was. That was his oath. Suddenly, Veyttin of Brae sat up in his bedroll, his axe in his hands. He searched left and right, but saw only the shadows cast by the dying embers of the campfire and the dappled moonlight filtering through the trees. A few paces to his right was the snoring mound that was his travel companion. Dorbraine of Yew was a heavy sleeper, and that made Veyttin nervous. Veyttin rubbed his eyes and thought about the dream that had jolted him from sleep. He recognized it now. Vantick. The name stuck in his mind and in his throat. It was a name he had tried hard to forget. He remembered the day he'd given the book to Zeddar... it had been the last time he'd ever laid eyes on the Wizard. He had looked at the book, then up at Vantick, and he'd actually been grateful. In fact, he'd been so overcome with gratitude, he hadn't known what to say. It had been one of the few times he'd ever seen the Wizard speechless. It drove Vantick mad to know the betrayal he was perpetrating. That had been a dark time for him, and he was doing his best to leave it behind. He had a new name now... He was Veyttin of Brae. Those were the first memories. The ones that grounded him. The ones he knew were his own and no one elses.... He was Veyttin of Brae, and that was all that mattered now....
Morning Sunrise ~The Summoning~ Dorbraine of Yew poked a stick at the fire, stirring the hot coals back to life. He added a few dry sticks, and they caught quickly. In a matter of moments, the fire was crackling again. He warmed his hands and smiled. He loved a good fire. Once it was hot enough, Dorbraine set an iron skillet on the hot coals and added several strips of bacon. He cut up three sections of sausage, a half of an onion, and three potatoes. The skillet was getting hot now, and the bacon was starting to sizzle. Dorbrain stirred the concoction, adding a pinch of dried seasalt he carried with him, and a quick rubbing of some local herbs, mostly sage. Finally, when the meats were done, and the potatoes were growing soft, Dorbraine cracked three eggs into the skillet and stirred them in. Veyttin of Brae sat up in his bedroll and eyed Dorbraine, "What's with all the noise, woodsman?" "Just fixing some breakfast," Dorbraine responded, a smile on his face, "YOu hungry?" Veyttin just frowned deeper, "The sun isn't even up yet," He growled. Dorbraine just grinned wider, "I know. Good time, isn't it? Want some?" Veyttin growled again and rolled over so his back was to Dorbraine. "That's why I don't like you," Dorbrain said, pointing at the Braean with his fork, "You're always grumpy in the mornings." Veyttin growled, "Dorbraine, for Fate's sake, please shut up. I told you, I'm not grumpy. I just don't like being awake before the morning sun. So, please, I say again.... SHUT UP!" Dorbraine just shook his head, "Don't understand how someone can be that grumpy this early," He muttered. Veyttin just sighed. ANother two days, and They would be in Paws. WIth any luck, the Village had separate barracks for them. If Veyttin had to listen to the Yewan much longer, it might drive him mad.
