Callindra shouldered him out of the way and saw with a shock that the figure standing on the pulpit did indeed look a lot like the black clad figure whom she owed a good deal of pain.  Brightfang was in her hand as quick as thought and she was moving to kick the door open when Tryst and Vilhylm each grabbed an arm.

“Let. Me. GO!”  She hissed, “He’s right there with his back to me the bastard!”

“He has an entire room full of innocent people in thrall there.”  Tryst said, his voice steady as a rock.  “You can’t endanger their lives.”

“Dergeras has not shown himself to be helpless.”  Vilhylm said, “I hardly think you could strike him down in one blow, if he allowed your blade to score his flesh at all.”

“As much as I want to go with you battle sister, we can strike a stronger blow against him by taking this artifact and leaving.”  Cronos said, gesturing at the tongue hanging from Tryst’s fingers.  A momentary flash of indecision was followed by the absolute grip of certainty.

Callindra jerked free of her friends with a violent movement accompanied by a blast of wind, grabbing the amulet from Tryst’s shocked grasp in the same motion.  With a burst of speed, she slammed through the door, tying the artifact around her neck.

“This THING isn’t even a PERSON!”  She shouted, pointing at the shocked form of Dergeras, “It’s lower than the filth on the bottom of your shoes!  It has taken my master and friend by dint of treachery and foul play and must be DESTROYED if it’s the last thing ANY of us does!”

The assembled crowd looked from her to Dergeras and snarled in hatred and rage, closing on the dais with clear intent.  Dergeras looked at Callindra with pure venom and spat in her face.

“Your precious Glarian is still waiting for you.”  He said, his voice grating with spite, “I’ll see you at Hellgate Keep.”  He seemed likely to say more, but a dagger sliced through his cloak, nearly pinning him to the wall and he incanted a spell, vanishing in a foul smelling gout of flame.

The rage of the assembled masses still washed over her like waves on a beach, eroding her sense of self with each assault. Strong hands parted the leather thong around her throat and Callindra returned to herself.  Tryst looked down at her with concern in his eyes.

“Are you all right?”  He asked, “What in the name of the Gods were you thinking?  Those folk could have torn you apart!”

“I’m fine.”  She said, her voice sounding harsh and rough to her own ears, “It was the only way I could think of to get rid of him… like you said, nobody can stand against thousands, no matter who they are.”

“Who is Dergeras?”  Tanner asked, a slight quaver of fear in his voice.  They all turned to look at him.

“Tanner, I think you might need to use this just once more.”  Tryst said, “These folk need to be calmed down and evacuated.  Is there a way out of town anywhere nearby?  A secret way?”

“I’m not sure.”  Tanner said, reaching for the talisman.

“Wait Tryst.”  Callindra said, “He doesn’t need to be the one to tell them what to do.  Why don’t you try it?  You have the Hand after all, and I think it might help you deal with the… discomfort I experienced while using it to influence the crowd.”

“Discomfort?”  Cronos asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You have to ride it.  Like shooting the rapids in a canoe.”  Tanner said, his eyes shining.  “Their emotions push and pull you and if you don’t do it just right they sweep you downstream.”

“Well I didn’t find it exciting.”  Callindra grumbled, “It was more like drowning than anything else, and didn’t you say you had no idea you were using magic?”

“I can tell you aren’t good with words.”  Tanner said, ignoring her question. “I was a bard once, and should have been able to play any noble house but I caught the eye of the wrong girl and was expelled by the Lord whose house I had been playing-“

“I’ll take care of it.”  Tryst said, cutting Tanner’s reminiscence off with an apologetic look at Callindra.  “The Hand will protect me regardless I think.”

He stepped out onto the balcony and began speaking in his sonorous voice, the crowd quickly quieting down to listen.  Cronos and Callindra kept an eye on Tanner while Vilhylm watched over Tryst.

“So this back way out.  Is it big enough for all the folk to come with?”  Callindra asked, “We don’t want to leave anyone here if we can help it.”

“Why are we leaving again?”  Tanner asked, “It’s not as though there’s a plague or anything, just those damn merchants and Lords are keeping more than their share.”

“No, it’s far worse than that.”  Cronos said, “Unless I miss my guess this city will probably not last more than a day or two.  Callindra, I think those monsters we killed who were attacking the Gild’s wagons were scouts for a much larger force.”

Even as he finished speaking, horns began frantically blowing and the great bells of the citadel began to ring.

“The city is under attack!”  Tanner said, his eyes going wide.  “Just like you said!  Oh Gods what are we going to do?”

Cronos slapped him efficiently across the face and then grabbed his chin, forcing him to make eye contact.  “You are going to gather all the supplies you have been able to pilfer and show us the way out.  The faster you get it together the quicker we can get out of here and the more of the people you’ve been leading in rebellion will survive.”

“Um.  Right.  The way out is the caverns though.  Not really a place fit for the women and children…”

“Listen to me you halfwit!”  Callindra said, allowing her anger to flare, “This entire CITY is going to be overrun with hostile forces in a matter of days if not hours!  If Dergeras was here and gave that to you, the odds are he is going to be coming BACK for it and he won’t be alone.”

She was inches away from him now, looking slightly up into his startled face, “Since he knows you’ve lost the priceless gift he gave to you he’s sure to want a little retribution and since he’s bothered to appear here, himself, this group of people is part of his plan.”

Just then, screams erupted from outside in the great hall.  Callindra drew Brightfang with a whistle of steel, “Tell me where the entrance to the caverns is or I swear by Wind and Blade I’ll gut you like a fish right here and now!”

Tanner pointed a trembling finger toward the great hall, “It’s beneath the dais.  There’s a lever…”

Cronos snorted, “And he said you didn’t have a way with words.”

Both of them broke off when they heard Tryst’s battle shout and saw that Vilhylm had donned a mask and was leaping through the door.  “Poxy rotting bastard must have already had his creatures infiltrating the city.”  Callindra growled, barely pausing to glance at the scene below her before running through the door and vaulting over the railing, bringing Brightfang down to slash an infected man savaging another with long black claws.

The momentum of her swing coupled with her falling weight cut the thing in half, splattering glowing emerald ichor across the crowd.  Behind her, Cronos incanted a spell, sending bolts of arcane Power lancing through the crowd to strike another of the infected, punching five small holes through its skull.  Vilhylm and Tryst had claimed two more and some of the refugees were less helpless than others, drawing swords to hack at more.

With a grinding, grating sound the floor of the podium began to slide to one side revealing a ramp that led down.   Cool, moist air wafted out and Callindra began ushering the nearest townsfolk through, making sure each one looked her in the eye, ensuring they weren’t infected.

“Cronos, either take over for me here or get down there and make sure they aren’t walking into some kind of trap!”  Callindra shouted over the din of frightened voices and the clash of steel on steel.  He nodded and turned to move with the refugees into the dubious safety of the caves beneath the city.

The walls of Levora came into view and Callindra heaved a sigh of relief.  She was certain she would lose her mind if she had to put up with one more hour of Jordan’s chatter.  His hero worship had degenerated into some kind of awkward attempt to pay her court and she couldn’t decide which one was less welcome.

All thoughts of the boy and his strange behavior vanished as they drew close enough to see details.  Throngs of people were outside the city walls, living in what she could only think of as abject squalor.  The sheer number of them had churned the grass into mud and when an errant breeze swirled around her, Callindra could smell the rank scent of human waste, fear and illness.

“What is this?”  She demanded in disgust, “Why are these people forced to live in such conditions?  Doesn’t the Lord of this Holding take care of his people?”

Tom Gild ignored her as usual and frowned, looking at Tryst.  “Levora got a strong town council and is full a folk with plenty a gold.  Ain’t like ‘em ta tolerate such outside their walls.  Guards shoulda run ‘em off else fed ‘em.  Bad for business havin suchlike around.”

Callindra’s eyes narrowed, and she rode forward so as to avoid making acerbic remarks to the stubborn farmer’s face.  “Damn prejudiced old goat.”  She mutters, riding through the throngs of people who line the roads.

“Do you have any food?”  A woman with sunken eyes asks in a hopeless tone, “Or clean water?  I wouldn’t ask, but… my children…”

She gestures behind her and Callindra is shocked to see three children in dirty rags huddled together on a tattered blanket.  Even though it was obviously inevitable that children would suffer as well, seeing them in such a state wrenched at her heart and she wordlessly handed over her waterskin and what was left of her trail rations.

“Gods favor you!”  The woman said, clutching the food and running back to the blanket.  Several others close by saw her giving food away and ran toward her, startling her horse as they began to clamor for food, water, anything to help.

A few became a dozen, and a dozen became a hundred.  The crowd of people, each shouting their need, trying to be louder than the others to be heard.  She needed to calm them down, but her voice wasn’t loud enough, she wasn’t tall enough and worse they had spotted the grain wagons.  Hundreds of hungry, angry people surrounded the wagons, their voices melding into an angry rumble.

A rock flew from the anonymous crowd, striking the canvas of the lead wagon and several more followed, one nearly hitting Jordan Gild in the head.  Tom shouted, his voice barely audible to Callindra although he was only a few yards away.

“Get back ya filthy scavengers!  If ya got coin we cn deal, but get otta th way!  We’re headin ta Levora an yer blockin th road!”  His angry words exploded the mob’s already tinder dry mood into a raging bonfire of anger and desperation.

As people began to try and climb onto the wagons, Callindra’s companions prepared to defend themselves.  She couldn’t stand by and watch these poor people get hurt just for trying to feed their families.  Whipping Brightfang from his sheath, she drew upon the Weave to lend her voice strength and shouted, “STOP!”

Her voice broke through the low rumble of the crowd whip crack sharp.  A swirling vortex of dust and dry leaves spun around her rising two score feet into the air and taking on the semblance of a humanoid form.  The crowd took several involuntary steps back, staring in stunned silence as she continued.

“WE HAVE NO WISH TO HARM YOU.  WE WILL HELP ALL WE CAN BUT YOU MUST LET US PASS IN PEACE!”  The vortex gradually spun slower and slower, collapsing into nothing and leaving her covered in filth, but the people stood by, watching her with frightened eyes as they rode past and through the town gates.

Callindra sheathed her sword as they passed the gates and fatigue hit her like she’d just run for miles.  She saw Cronos staring at her and gave him a shaky smile, “I didn’t know I had it in me…”

“That was quite the display of power.”  He said, “I haven’t known many skilled enough with the weave to manifest an illusion that could appear solid and speak at the same time.”

“Illusion?”  She asked, confused, “It was just a whirlwind… and my voice got louder.”

“That might be what you saw.”  He said with a raised eyebrow, “I saw a forty foot tall Callindra with a drawn sword and a voice like a bolt of lightning.  Would have scared the life out of me if I hadn’t known what a kitten you are.”

She bristled and then shook her head, still adjusting to his wry sense of humor even after knowing him for months.  “I just wanted to make myself heard… I guess I accomplished that.  Gods and Demons it took a lot out of me though.”

He stared at her for a few more moments as if trying to ascertain if she was making fun or serious and then shrugged.  “My… ah, teacher… pushed my limits pretty ruthlessly.  I’ve felt the exhaustion that comes with it.”

Anything else he might have shared was cut short by the sound of the great gates of the city booming shut behind them.  As the sun had yet to reach its zenith, it was highly irregular and caused Callindra and her companions to look around in alarm.  A phalanx of guards closed rank around them and an officious looking man in dark blue robes trimmed with gold came out to greet Tom with a pleased smile on his face.

“Ah, Master Gild, I see you’re punctual as usual.”  He flicked his eyes dismissively over Callindra and her friends, “Picked up some rabble along the way?  No matter, we can deal with them.”

“My pardon sir but we are on an errand of some importance.”  Tryst said, his voice dripping contempt.  “We will leave you to conduct your commerce.”  He wheeled his horse and swept down the street with the rest of them following close behind.

Once they were out of earshot, Cronos brought his horse abreast of Tryst’s.  “What are you trying to do?  Those guards might look like a bunch of idiots with their matching armor and plumed helmets but there are a lot more of them than there are of us.”

“I’m just following the Hand.”  Tryst said shortly, referring to the precious artifact that Jorda had given them. “I checked it briefly just now.  Those guards can go to the crows for all I care.”

Vilhylm glanced over his shoulder, “Well you certainly got their attention.  There are a dozen of them following us.”

Too late, Callindra realized Tryst had led them down a blind alley.  She vaulted from the horse’s back, not wanting to try and fight from there since she had no experience and Brightfang was hardly long enough to use from horseback.

“You must return with us for proper questioning and customs excise for any items you might be attempting to smuggle into the city.”  Their captain announced, his men lining the exit of the alley and forming a wall of burnished breast plates and shining shields that bristled with spear points.

“Smuggling?”  Callindra demanded indignantly, “We SAVED those wagons of grain from monsters on the road and again just now from an angry mob.  If anything you should be on your knees praising us for our bravery, not treating us like criminals!”

A stone bounced off the captain’s helmet with a resounding clang and he staggered to one side.  “Rebels!”  He shrieked before a hail of stones, slate shingles and other assorted heavy objects rained down upon his squad, reducing them to twitching, bruised unconsciousness.

Ropes dropped from the rooftops and three figures dressed in leather armor slid quickly down them.  Without paying any attention to the others in the alley, they began stripping the weapons, armor and valuables from the comatose guardsmen.

“Hey!”  A voice from behind them said, “Hey you, an enemy of the guards is a friend of mine, come on!”

Callindra felt her heart quicken, the voice was … beautiful.  She spun in place and saw an ordinary looking man who was holding a gate aside, wearing much the same nondescript leather armor as the others.  It was cunningly painted to look like the stones of the alley, a deception that was only apparent after it had been opened.

“Never mind them, they’ll be done in two shakes.  But you need ta get them horses in here quick like if ya wanna keep them.”  He grinned at Callindra and she found herself grinning back.  “No need fer that little slicer here.  I ain’t one ta tell a girl she can’t do as she pleases.”

“I’m Callindra, and these are my friends.”  She said, not bothering to introduce the others, “Who are you and what’s this about rebels?”

“Oh, I’m Tanner.”  He said, making an elaborate bow, “We’re rebels.  Ya see, these bastards have taken all the food and such for themselves, leaving all the refugees and the poor cityfolk high and dry.  So we’ve been sticking it to the buggers!  We steal their food and hand it out.  Soon, maybe we’ll be able to really do something about it too.”

Callindra followed him through the door, a wide grin on her lightly blushing face.  He wasn’t very cute, but there was … something about him that she found irresistible.  Turning, she saw her friends following with expressions of relief on their faces.  Only Tryst had a mild frown creasing his brow.

Tanner led them through twisting back alleys and narrow streets until they came to a large stable attached to what appeared to be a cathedral.  No grooms came to tend the mounts, but that wasn’t an impediment to Callindra and her friends who would have wanted to take care of their own animals anyway.  Once their beasts were settled, they followed Tanner through a door.

Callindra felt her breath catch in her throat when she saw what lay beyond the door.  The room was the largest she had ever seen, and it was packed with folk.  They sat in rows, filling the pews.  They stood in ranks, filling the isles.  Hundreds, perhaps a thousand or even more and they all cheered when Tanner walked through the door.

“We gave ‘em hell and chalked up another victory for the resistance!”  Tanner said with a wide grin of triumph, “Afore long them highborn jackals won’t have a choice but ta give us our share!”

The cheers grew louder and Callindra surveyed the gathered people.  Most were much the same as the ones outside the walls, although they were slightly better fed and in far better spirits.  Most were grown men, but there were a fair number of women and children as well.

“And now I’ve taken these heroes!”  Tanner continued, “They’re gonna fight for us against the tyranny an lead us ta victory!”

“Wait a minute-“ Tryst started to say, but Callindra was swept along by his words and found herself cheering along with the masses in the room while brandishing her sword aloft.  Tryst’s hand landed on her shoulder and she was jarred from her exuberant state with a shock.

“Callindra!”  He hissed urgently into her ear, “He has a piece of it, look!”  Tryst was pointing towards Tanner’s neck.  A pendant hung there, a strange half rounded looking flat piece of what looked like clay but if it was anything like the Hand it was near as indestructible.

“Is that… a tongue?”  She asked, “Wait, why aren’t YOU affected by him?”

“I think because I have a piece of it too.”  He said, “We need to get Tanner alone so we can have a serious talk with him.”

The crowd had finally quieted down, and Tanner turned towards Callindra still beaming.  With Tryst touching her, she could see through whatever glamor was covering him.  He really was quite ordinary after all, she thought with mild disappointment.

“We should go and discuss your plans.”  She said, “We can hardly have a war council out here with all this noise.”

“Of course!”  He said, turning back to the crowd.  “Prepare yourselves!  Brother Dominic will speak and then you shall all follow his instructions for the next raid.”

The four of them followed him into a small alcove that had likely once been used by priests to prepare sacraments or vest themselves.  It was paneled in dark wood, had thick carpets and tapestries on the walls.  Tanner moved to the sideboard and poured wine, handing cups around.

“So, how should we plan our attack?”  He asked, eyes shining and Callindra began to slip back under his spell once again.  Tryst, however, was having none of it.

“Take off that necklace at once.”  He said sternly, “You have no business using such a powerful artifact on any whom you meet without warning or giving them a choice but to follow you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  Tanner protested, “This necklace is a gift from Brother Dominic after I expressed interest in helping to gather the people for the resistance.”

“I think he’s telling the truth.”  Cronos said, uncharacteristically trusting.  Callindra opened her mouth to agree, but before she could speak Tryst reached forward and yanked the braided leather cord from around Tanner’s neck.  It parted with a snap and that seemed to break them all free of the spell of belief and adoration they had been under.

“Where.”  Vilhylm asked, his voice deadly with menace, “Is this ‘Brother Dominic’ then?”

“He’s just outside talking to the folk!”  Tanner said, his voice sounding shrill and unbecoming.  “I swear, I thought they were following me ‘cause I was a good leader!”

Cronos pushed past him and opened a small window, looking out at the back of the man speaking on the raised pulpit.  He hissed a breath in warning and fear.  “That’s Dergeras out there, I’m certain of it!”

Callindra crouched behind a small hill, listening to the sounds and smelling the scents the Winds brought her way.  There were creatures moving out there, and they didn’t have the best interests of any living creature in mind.  Glancing back at Cronos she gave a quick hand signal, and he nodded, slipping around the hill to the left while she went to the right.

The shouts of distressed humans reached her ears, curling on the back of a malicious breeze.  Gritting her teeth, she dropped the guise of stealth and sprinted over the hill, whipping Brightfang’s slender length from his sheath with a whistling rasp of steel against leather.

Two huge wagons drawn by teams of eight oxen each were surrounded by strange creatures, seemingly humans with heads like dogs, long powerful arms and short hair covering their bodies.  Most importantly, their eyes glowed with green fire.  These were her enemies.

With a shout and a swing of her blade, Callindra sent a blast of wind that cut like razors into the closest beasts.  One of them fell shrieking and clutching at a severed arm, and the other two ran to meet her charge.  Just before they reached her, Cronos slammed into them from one side and Vilhylm from the other.  The creatures toppled to the ground, but dozens more reared up from the grass, some with flaming arrows nocked to bowstrings.

“Ware!”  An older man with a mattock in his hands shouted to them, “There be grain in them wagons!”

Callindra watched the arrows flying through the air, the flames on the oil soaked heads flickering in the evening light.  She tried to do something, to use magic, but it slipped through her fingers.  She might as well try to hold onto a handful of water.

Tryst shouted three words that echoed in the air and the ground around one of the wagons rippled, forming into an earthwork berm.  The arrows thudded harmlessly into it, but the oxen bellowed in fear, rolling their eyes and straining against their yokes.

Vilhylm ran forward, breathing into the lead bull’s nostrils and he quieted enough that the wagon wasn’t in danger.  Donning a mask of polished wood, he seemed to grow and change.  His skin became less like flesh and more like bark.  Vines sprouted from his arms and twined around a group of advancing creatures, forcing them to slow their mad rush.

Ignoring them, Callindra slashed the closest one to her from neck to navel before spinning to catch the downward swing of a pike on Brightfang’s blade.  The force of the impact drove her to one knee, but she shed the impact and swung her sword to hack the thing off at the knees.

She growled in pain as an arrow slammed into her thigh, deflected by her armor but still hitting hard enough to bruise and then was nearly thrown to the ground when another struck her chest, this time finding a weak spot and plunging into muscle.  A swipe of Brightfang cut the shaft off close to the armor and she continued to carve a trail of destruction through the seemingly endless swarm of enemies.  A half dozen burning shafts arced high to strike the grain wagon and it began to catch fire, but vines from Vilhylm raced up to smother most of the flames.

Callindra swung about to look for another enemy, but found they were all down.  She carefully cleaned the oozing green ichor from Brightfang’s blade before it could etch the steel and sheathed him.  Tryst was speaking with the wagon master, Cronos was making sure of the dead and Vilhylm was checking the condition of the wagons with a woodworker’s critical eye.

“- bound for Clarion with grain.”  The man was saying, “Good thing you all came up when ya did.  Them critters woulda been a fair lot more trouble than we coulda handled.”

“It was a pleasure to assist you master Gild.”  Tryst replied, “The Adamantine Brotherhood is bound by duty to help those in need.”

“And we don’t mind killing creatures that need killing.”  Callindra said dryly, “Wel met, I’m Callindra-“

“Yer the ones what handled them critters at the Graiven place ain’t ya?”  Orin interrupted, giving Tryst a critical look.

“Uh.  No.”  Tryst said, “We’re just…” he paused; knowing he shouldn’t really talk about their mission. “We’re-“

“Where are you headed then Orin?”  Callindra interrupted, annoyed that the farmer was ignoring her.

“We gotta couple loads a grain bound fer Levora.”  One of the heavily muscled boys with obvious family resemblance to Orin said, grinning at her.  “Ya got some skills with that pigsticker.”

“Aye, I ain’t never seen fightin like that!”  The other said, obviously a brother or cousin.  “It were like ya was dancin or somethin.”

“Boys!” Orin barked, “Get them teams under control and quit yappin!”

The two young men looked away from Callindra with startled expressions on their faces, talking over one another in their haste to obey.  “Yessir! Yes father!”

He turned back to Tryst, still ignoring Callindra.  “So ya ain’t from Levora?  I heard there was patrols from there tryin ta keep the roads open.”

“No, we’re The Adamantine Brotherhood.  We fight evil wherever we find it.”  Tryst said, repeating the name he insisted on using for their group.

Callindra rolled her eyes, “We aren’t heroes Tryst, that silly name isn’t going to stick.”

Tryst gave her a resigned, resentful look and then noticed the stub of the arrow shaft protruding from her chest.  “By the Powers Callindra, come here at once!  I must remove that arrow before it gets infected.”

She unbuckled the breastplate of her armor and winced at the pain when she removed it.  She was used to getting injured by now, but it didn’t make the pain any less.  The flowers in her hair released a tiny burst of pollen that made her sneeze but somehow it had an anesthetic effect.  Either that or she was going into shock.

“Just pull it out.”  She said through gritted teeth.  “I got lucky, I think one of my ribs stopped it from puncturing a lung, but you can’t push it through.”

Tryst made her sit and frowned.  “I’m going to have to cut these clothes off… at least your underthings.”

Callindra pulled her tunic over her head with effort, wincing again as the arrowhead grated against a rib.  “I go through more breast bands.”  She grumbled, but looked at him and nodded tersely.

He took a small surgeon’s kit from his belt pouch and deftly sliced through the cotton band, exposing the arrow shaft.  A look of surprise registered on his face as he looked to the left.  It was an ancient trick but Callindra fell for it, glancing away in confusion as he pulled the arrow out in a smooth practiced motion.

She gasped in pain, but nodded her thanks.  “Keeps me from tensing the muscles at the wrong time right?”  Callindra looked down at the wound just to one side of her right breast.  The bleeding had already stopped and she could feel the roots of Jorda’s gift slowly pulling the flesh together.

Tryst was staring intently as well, and based on the location of the wound some women might have taken offense.  Callindra knew, however, that he was interested in the healing process.  “I just can’t get over this.  It’s such an amazing thing to see.”

“Yes, well can I get dressed now?”  She asked, smiling at the touch of color on his cheeks, “Those boys are starting to wonder what we’re doing.”

“Of course, just don’t put pressure on it for a bit.”  He said, clearing his throat.  “No seriously strenuous activity for a day if you can help it.”

Callindra nodded, too tired to argue.  She would ignore him as usual, they both knew it, but the routine still felt good.  It was so strange and wonderful to have people who cared enough about her to mother her about her injuries.  Shrugging back into her bloodied, sweat stained tunic, she went back to the horses to get fresh clothes and a drink of water.

One of the boys met her halfway there with a waterskin and a friendly smile.  “I’m Jordan Gild.  Don’t mind pop, he’s just scared… likes ta fall back on old habits when he gets rattled ya know?”

“All too well.”  She said, taking the waterskin from him with a nod of thanks.  She drank deeply and splashed some over her face, feeling it sting where there were still small cuts from the battle.  The Crown always healed the largest wounds first, sometimes it was days until the smaller ones got closed.

“I’m not really offended.”  She said, then gave him a critical look.  “Well honestly I am, but I’m just too tired to worry about it right now.  We’ve been on the road for weeks and I don’t think I’ve gotten a decent night’s sleep that whole time.  How far out of Levora are we anyway?  I want a bath and a real bed.”

“Oh, just about a day an a half.”  He said, “At least as the wagon trundles.  Ya could probably get there a mite sooner travelin by horse.”

She sighed in resignation, taking another drink from the waterskin before handing it back to him.  “I’m sure Tryst will insist on us riding with you, and honestly I will welcome a slower pace until these wounds heal.”

“I ain’t seen anyone take an arrow to the chest an not just fall over dead.”  He said, his wide face shining with honest admiration.  “How do ya keep them flowers fresh anyways?”

Callindra sighed.  It was only for a couple of days, but they were going to be long days if this farm boy spent them all gawking and asking questions.

“Magic.”  She said shortly, “I need to go and change… and maybe take a quick scrub down in that little river over there.  You should see to your beasts.”

“Oh, uh… right.”  He said awkwardly.

“Thanks for the water Jordan.”  She said, and went to find fresh clothes.

The winds danced over hill and field.  They swirled around a city under siege, only holding on by the sheer force of will of thousands of Weavers of Magic.  They tickled the tree tops of the High Forest, twirling leaves into whirling patterns.  The raced over mountain peaks and were drawn to heat and smoke, an oddity in the cold, barren landscape.  Following them back to their source, they traveled down a long chimney.

A Dwarf with arms the size of tree trunks was standing at a small forge in front of a classroom of students.  Although young, they all showed the beards of adulthood, or very close at any rate.  They were old enough to be trusted with the heat of the fire and the soul of the forge.

“You must listen the metal, for it will tell you what it needs.  You must smell the metal, for it will warn you when it is close to damage.  You must watch the metal, for its light speaks of its willingness to change and bond.”  The master smith turned to his apprentice with a twinkle in his eye, “I would recommend waiting to taste the metal until it has cooled.”

One of the Dwarves in the front row of desks was scribbling furiously in a notebook.  When the master stopped by his desk he looked up with a serious expression on his face, obviously waiting for the lecture to continue.

“You can become skilled at metallurgy by research and practice, but one who would be truly gifted must learn to feel her work.  What I attempt to communicate with all my talk of using your senses to interact with the metal is that you need to put aside what you think you know and allow the passion of creation to guide your hands.

“It was this passion of Creation that caused Thraingaar to forge the first of our race.  We were tempered out of the bones of the earth on his Soulforge, and his love is what drives each of our creative impulses.  This is what sets us apart from the other races when it comes to bending what flows through the veins of the earth to our will.”

The youngster had stopped writing and was looking at him with awe on his face.  Ah yes, his name was Durrak.  His father and mother were renowned warriors, but he had shown an interest in learning to use a forge hammer instead of a war hammer and it had been encouraged.  In Dwarven society, being able to make things was always valued over destroying things.  Well no matter who his family was, he wasn’t going to get any preferential treatment.

–

Durrak wiped the sweat from his brow.  The forge was hot and the steel glowed on the anvil but he was distracted.  He was making a weapon for the first time and for some reason he couldn’t focus.  Every stroke of the hammer seemed to bend things the wrong way, the metal was either too hot or too cold.  It would either spark or crack, and eventually he threw the hammer down in exasperation.

“What is it Apprentice?”  Dethen asked, leaning down to inspect the ruins of what had been intended to be a dagger with a mild frown on his face.

“I can’t get it to… it just won’t work Master!”

Dethen looked at his Apprentice’s bench where the variety of small tools, kitchen implements, barrel staves, and other assorted items he had made were neatly arrayed and organized.  If his apprentice was having difficulty with the knife, it certainly wasn’t due to a lack of skill.

“Why don’t we stop for lunch, take some time to clear your head and we’ll look at it after.” Dethen said.  Once Durrak was out of the room he picked up the knife and turned it over in his hands.  To his surprise it appeared the alloys had begun to separate.  He’d never seen anything like it before; it was almost as though the metal was resisting being made into a weapon… or as though the smith who was working the forge somehow didn’t want to make one.

Not that someone could do something like that on purpose; alloys didn’t just break apart in random lines in a piece of hammered metal.  No matter, weapons weren’t for everyone.  Perhaps it would be better to try something more delicate.

–

“You wanted to see us Master Smith?”  The low rumble of Storgar’s voice would have been intimidating even had he not been an important member of the Shieldwall Warriors.  His wife Brenlena cut an equally imposing figure in the dress tabard of the King’s Own.

“Yes, thank you for meeting with me.” He said, organizing the papers on his desk before looking them squarely in the eyes. “Your son Durrak has incredible talent.”

“Wonderful, here I was afraid-”

“But it is a very focused and specific talent.” Dethen said, interrupting Storgar.  “I am convinced that with the proper training he could be the most influential jeweler Farenholm has seen in a thousand years.”

“Jewelry?” Brenlena said incredulously, “My son making Jewelry?”

“Impossible, he has military lineage!” Storgar said, stroking his beard. “There must be some mistake…”

He trailed off as Dethen removed the muslin cover from one of the wooden trays on his desk.  An array of bent and distorted weaponry sat on it like hideous gargoyles.  “Here are his attempts at anything with an edge.”

The silence of Durrak’s parents spoke volumes.  The master smith quickly uncovered the other wooden tray, “But here are his jewelry pieces.  Look at the intricacies of this scrollwork.  His intuition is better than many who have been working with precious metals for years!  I haven’t ever taught an apprentice who has learned to blend multiple metals in less than a moon-”

“Ridiculous!” Brenlena interrupted, “My son will make a Fullblade for me as his Master’s Piece or he shall be removed from your care.”  Dethen opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off, “DO I make myself clear?”

“Of course Exalted.” He said, giving her the military title in the hopes that it would diffuse the situation.  “I will make sure his instruction continues as per your initial request.”

The two stood stiffly and stalked out, anger clear on their faces and the set of their shoulders.

“I told you.” Durrak said, “I knew they wouldn’t be interested in any of this.”  He said bitterly as he gestured toward the tray of intricate necklaces and bracelets.  “All they care about is military rank and fighting prowess.”

“Well Apprentice, then I guess we’ll have to work harder on your weapon smithing until you can create something that will pass for a blade.” He said with a wry grin, “And you can make beautiful things when you have the time.”

“Yes sir.  As you say Master.”  There was relief and sadness in Durrak’s voice.  He had so badly wanted his mother and father to understand.  He could never fill their shoes, and even if he could, in five hundred years nobody would remember the name of the warrior who had served so valiantly in combat.  He wanted to leave a legacy behind that would last forever; not just the corpses of a few thousand goblins.

Sweat streamed from every pore, stinging a myriad of tiny cuts on Callindra’s arms and torso. She had stripped down to small clothes and her chest wrap for complete freedom of movement and that was the only thing that had kept her from getting worse injuries. Her opponent stood calmly without a drop of sweat or one single cut on her body. Despite the ferocity of the fight she felt invigorated, perhaps it was the Goddess’s gift that was helping her.

“Blademaster eh? Well you’re a lot better than I am but I’ve fought tougher.” She decided it was time to play her trump card, despite feeling good, she knew from experience that her stamina would only go so far and she should be near her limit. She settled back into one of her forms; Falcon Soars Above the Mountain; and waited for what she hoped was coming, her right hand pointed at the ground and her left holding Brightfang toward the sky.

“This will be our last exchange. That ridiculous stance is making it clear to me that you’re desperate. Prepare yourself girl.” The Blademaster swept in, sword held low aiming for Callindra’s midsection.

Instead of blocking, Callindra moved in, taking two complete strides aided by a harsh gust of wind from behind her; an unexpected bonus. The speed of her motion meant instead of contacting the edge of the Blademaster’s sword she was struck by her arm. Callindra swung her blade up towards her opponents’ neck, stopping inches from her skin as the other woman’s sword skittered across the ground.

A sharp pain and the feel of something warm running down her side made Callindra’s breath catch in her throat. She looked down and saw the Master’s secondary blade drawing blood from her ribs. She had forgotten about the second sword.  The Blademaster hesitated for a moment and then broke out laughing and withdrew her blade,

“That was the stupidest move I’ve ever seen. If I’d been quicker or you’d been slower you would be dead. There’s no way I would have been able to halt my strike, but you knew that didn’t you? You’ve got guts girl, but you’re altogether too reckless and impulsive. Typically human. Let that be a lesson to all of you.”

She turned to look at the assembled fighters, “Never underestimate your opponent, especially when your opponent is a human. They are unpredictable and that makes them even more dangerous, never count on them to run when you think they should. Regardless of my opinion of this one personally, she at least has my respect as a swordswoman.”

Callindra gave her a flashy salute followed by a short bow from the waist while she sheathed Brightfang. “I am in your debt Blademaster. I have learned valuable lessons today, the most important being ask who an elf’s parents are before leaping several hundred feet off a tree limb just to help them make a grand entrance.”

A chuckle rippled through the elves and Callindra continued. “Give your son a chance, he’s got guts too. Don’t underestimate someone just because they’re weaker than you think they should be.”

She turned to Edelweiss and gave him a grin. “Maybe once you earn your blades you and I can spar. I’m already a couple years ahead of you so you’ll have to work hard if you don’t want me to kick your butt. Can you show me how to get back to my room? I’ve gotta admit this tree has me a little turned around.”

“I’ll walk her out mother.”  He said, “It’s no trouble.”

Yeah, Callindra decided. Way too pretty to be a boy.

–

As she followed Edelweiss back to her rooms, Callindra realized his mother, the Blademaster, had taught her another valuable lesson.  She was not ready to pursue Glarian.  If she couldn’t even stand against a sword wielding Elf, how would she possibly fare against someone as powerful as Dergeras?

“Here are your rooms Lady Callindra.”  Edelweiss said, bowing slightly and looking at her with no attempt to disguise his admiration for her.

Callindra shifted uncomfortably, she didn’t feel like a Lady, hells she wasn’t a Lady.  Standing there wearing nothing but her sweaty smallclothes with a multitude of itchy cuts all over her arms she didn’t feel like anything but a chastised apprentice.  She idly scratched at one of the cuts and started at what she felt.  There were leaves growing from it!

Looking down in mild shock, she saw that tiny vines had begun to stitch the wounds shut, their roots acting as sutures that forced the skin together and bound it tight.  Her shock gave way to amazement and she laughed out loud.

“This is the gift Jorda gave to me?”  She asked, delighted.  “I thought she was just trying to lecture me on being pretty…”

The Elf boy was staring at her now that he’d also seen what was happening.  “A real Godsblessing.”  He breathed, “Not just the adornment but a true Brightstar Crown.  I’ve never seen a real one before.”

When he seemed almost on the verge of reaching out to touch one of the slashes his mother had cut into her arm, Callindra shook free of her astonished reverie.  “Well, I will have to think of a way to properly express my gratitude.”  She said, “Thanks for showing me back here, I’d never have made it on my own.”

Edelweiss jerked his hand back, a pale pink blush spreading over his alabaster cheeks.  “Of course Lady Callindra.”  He said, all formality again.

She laughed softly and tousled his hair, “I’m no Lady.”  She said, opening the door and striding into the room.  Her brothers were sitting at the table in the main room, breaking their fast with a light meal of porridge and fruit.

“Been out causing trouble already?”  Cronos asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course!”  She said with an impish smile, “Edelweiss would you care to join…”  She trailed off, the Elf boy had already gone.

“Who are you speaking to?”  Vilhylm asked, looking curiously past her into the empty hallway.

“Oh just the young Elf who led me back to our rooms after I caused all the trouble.”  She replied, sitting down heavily on a chair and pouring herself a mug of water.

“I was only joking about the trouble.”  Cronos said.  She raised an eyebrow at him and he had the grace to give her a lopsided grin, “OK, only partially joking.  What happened?”

Between bites of porridge and fruit, she relayed her tale to them, leaving out the bit where she had thought Edelweiss a girl.  There was no need for them to think her a fool.

“That was reckless and foolish!”  Tryst exclaimed with much more edge in his voice than he usually displayed, “We are honored guests here, but that’s no reason to go about insulting people.  Really Callindra, I would have thought that even you would show more wisdom than that.”

His words stung more than she wanted to admit.  “I didn’t mean to.”  She said, her good mood evaporating, “It just sort of happened.”

Tryst took a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming himself.  “Well what’s done is done.  From what you say it sounds like you at least managed to gain a bit of their respect.  Now let’s see those wounds.”

“There’s no need.”  She said, for some reason not wanting to disclose the Goddess’s gift to him, “I’m fine.”

“Nonsense, I can see the holes in your clothes Callindra.  I’ll get my kit.”  He was standing when she sighed and pulled up her sleeve.

“Son of a pox ridden sailor.”  Cronos said, staring at the greenery that was sprouting from the cuts.  Vilhylm and Tryst just looked at her wide-eyed.

“It’s somehow connected to this.”  She tugged at the tiara of flowers in her hair, “Edelweiss called it a Brightstar Crown or something.”

“Take it off, I want to see it.”  Cronos said, leaning forward eagerly.

“Ummm… as far as I can tell it doesn’t really come off?”  Callindra said, “I tried to take it off before but it’s like it has grown into my hair.”

“Your hair.”  Vilhylm said, and when she looked at him with a confused expression on her face he pointed.  “It’s at least six inches longer than it was last night.”

Callindra turned her head quickly and felt her hair brush her shoulders.  Her hair hadn’t been this long since she was a child.  Of course when she was a child there hadn’t been tiny tendrils of Brightstar vine growing in her hair.

“How did it grow so quickly?”  She marveled aloud and then shook her head at her own foolishness, of course Jorda’s magic was involved.  “But why make it long?  It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well she did lecture you on being more girly right?”  Cronos said with a grin, “Maybe she’s just trying to force you to be more like a girl.”

“That’s just silly Cronos, most of the Elf boys wear their hair as long as the girls.”  Callindra said, “Maybe that’s it.  Maybe it is just making me more like the Elves or something.”

They ate in silence for a few more moments, her friends refraining from any more teasing and she lost in silent thought.  Finally, Callindra sat back with a wooden cup of water with freshly crushed mint leaves in it and thumbed her pipe full of tac.  She looked at her brothers and blew twin streams of smoke from her nostrils.

“Tryst, I want to come with you to find these… artifacts that Jorda told us about.”  His eyebrows raised and he opened his mouth to speak, but she continued before he could interrupt.  “I know I don’t have what it takes to stand against Dergeras yet.  I also am not foolish enough to think that I could take him on without your help.  All of your help.”

Her friends were silent for a long moment and she began to fear they were going to refuse.  When she looked into their faces she didn’t see what she had feared.  Tryst looked determined.  Cronos eager.  Vilhylm afraid, but pleased.

“Of course.”  Tryst said, “Of course we will help you.”

“I have a bit of payback to give that bastard.”  Cronos said with a gleam in his eye.

“He is dangerous, you are right to ask for our help.”  Said Vilhylm, “It may be my death, however some things must be opposed and I believe Dergeras is one of those things.”

“First we help Tryst with his mission.”  Callindra said firmly, trying to hold back the tears of gratitude that stung her eyes as she looked at her friends.  “If we’re to have a chance at victory something tells me we’ll need Gode on our side.”

“It’s settled then.”  Said Tryst with a relieved smile, “I will be happy to have you by my side my friends.”

Callindra arose before the sun, her internal clock awakening her as the first rosy fingers of the predawn glow reached above the horizon of the forest.  The room she shared with the men she had come to consider her brothers had windows that looked out over the forest canopy.  It was strange, knowing that they were hundreds of feet in the air even though the treetops only looked like they were perhaps twenty or thirty feet below.

Looking at the others, she startled when Vilhylm turned his head and stared at her, but after a moment she realized he was sleeping with his eyes open.  She wasn’t one to question strange habits but that was weird.  How would one come to acquire such an affectation?

She slipped out careful not to awaken anyone, no mean feat in spite of the amount of drinking the boys had done the night before.  The Tree was immense, but after wandering for a time, she heard the sounds of swordplay.  Following the sound, she eventually came to a door that led out onto a massive branch at least 50 yards wide. There were several dozen elves stripped to the waist working sword forms. The style was strange but it spoke to her nature; it was wild and reckless but strangely they used both hands. After watching them for a few moments Callindra approached one of the elves standing to one side.

“Good morning, may I join you for a morning workout?”

The elf gave her a scornful look, “How did you find this place? This training ground is for Bladedancers only. Aren’t you one of those outsiders who brought that evil and fouled the air our goddess breathes? I saw you soiling your blade with magic, and besides you fight with a single sword. Useless human child, leave immediately.”

“I was already going. Your fighting style isn’t nearly powerful enough for me to emulate, and I’d hate to make you look bad. Again. After all wasn’t it my magic wielding single handed fighting style that took down that golem before it could destroy your precious tree? Where were you all that time? Fighting some vicious and dangerous bugs I presume?” She laughed in the elf’s face and walked back into the tree listening to her spluttering indignation with satisfaction.  Even so, she was sad that she had been turned away.  It would have been interesting to spar with them.

After taking a few more turns and found herself on a secluded branch that was small for the Great Tree, only about twenty feet from side to side. Seating herself in the center of the branch with her sword across her knees she meditated and listened to the wind. Despite knowing how useless it was she strained to hear something from her master Glarian, remembering his last instructions not to follow him to Hellgate Keep.

“I will follow your instructions old man, but only until I’m strong enough to feed that black clad bastard his own balls.” She muttered. Standing Callindra began moving through her basic Stances. After the initial warm up she began running her own forms; the ones she used to keep opponents off balance so they couldn’t tell which attack was next.

Although she never would have admitted it to anyone she had given each one a name. Swallow Skims Across Water. Searching the Sea. Holding the Moon. Bird Returns to Tree at Dusk. Black Dragon Whips His Tail. Green Dragon Emerges From Water. Lion Shakes His Mane. Tigress Holds Her Head. Phoenix Spreads Its Wings. Wind Sweeps the Plum Blossoms. Wild Horse Leaps Over the Creek. Snake Strikes Twice. Lightning Splits the Tree.

Just as she was finishing the last sweep of Brightfang she became aware of another presence. Callindra leaped into the air, spinning with her blade held at the ready, Soaring Crane Strikes, and only barely managed to halt her blade before it split the skull of a young elf who stood in the doorway.

“Pox and rot! I nearly cut you in half; you need to be more careful!” She exclaimed.

“Oh my, you’re one of the Outsiders who saved us from those demons! I cannot believe that you are a girl! I would wager you are the strongest girl ever! Mother said I was not allowed to go see you but you came to me.”

Callindra raised her eyebrow at the girl, “What do you mean I came to you?”

“Well after a fashion anyway.”  Her guest amended, “I always come here in the mornings; you can watch the Blade Dancers from here. I wish train with them so badly, but mother and father will not let me.”

Callindra shook her head warming quickly to the pipsqueak’s flattery, “Those stuck up prigs, why would you want to watch them? If they had been worth a damn they would have helped me take down that golem. Lucky for you I’m a mage, not just a swordfighter or this tree would probably be dead.”

The elf’s eyes widened in shock, “But this is the Grandfather Tree. Nothing can kill the Grandfather Tree. What is a prig?”

“Oh, of course you’re probably right,” Callindra didn’t think it was necessary to tell this kid the truth, she ran her fingers through her tangled hair and they got caught in the thorn and brightstar tiara Gode had given her. “Damn I thought I took this thing off last night. I guess I must have forgotten.”

The elf maid gasped, “That is a gift from Gode herself! I saw her give it to you in the Great Hall. I do not believe it comes off.”

“Doesn’t come off? What do you mean doesn’t fucking come off?” Callindra pulled at the tangle of vines in her hair but only accomplished hurting her scalp. Feeling at her hair she found it had vegetation growing all the way from the roots of her hair to the tips with tiny four petal brightstar flowers dotting it here and there. Strangely it didn’t seem to tangle her fingers as long as she wasn’t trying to take it off.

“It’s a Crown of Life, once you put them on they do not come off, otherwise they die. It is a living thing you know, made from Jorda’s hair. You’re really lucky to have it. I think you are the first Outsider to get one. What is your name brave warrior?”

She quit pulling on her hair with a sigh, oh well it was just a few flowers, but why Brightstars? Why not something that would make her seem to be more dangerous like Nightshade or Deathblossom? “My name’s Callindra, what’s yours?”

“Edelweiss” she raised her chin as though preparing for abuse.

“That’s a strong name. Did you know that’s one of the toughest plants in existence? So stubborn it will only grow high up on mountains, no lower than 2000 yards?” Callindra remembered Cronos talking about it before, “I know a lot of people only talk about its healing properties but it’s a really tough flower.”

“You are without a doubt the strangest girl I have ever met.” Edelweiss said, tilting her head to one side, “The Goddess was correct though, you really could be much prettier if you tried. The Crown really does add to your looks you know?”

“Bah. Who needs to be pretty? I find beauty in the dance of battle, in the edge of Brightfang, in the flare of Power when I bend the weave to my will!” She stepped back lightly and swung her blade in a whirling arc, a few leaves swept up around her in a whirlwind and her hair fanned out around her.

Edelweiss clapped her hands in delight. “Amazing! Here we don’t have anyone who taps into the weave. They have to sit around and wait for Gode to grant them power. She is wonderful and all, but it all seems so boring in comparison.”

“So you want to train with the Blade Dancers do you?” Edelweiss nodded emphatically, “Well I don’t have much pull with them but I can help you make a kick ass entrance if you want.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“C’mere and I’ll show you.” Callindra was smiling a fiendish smile. Her small companion approached cautiously. “Come on now, if you’re nervous or hesitant they’ll never take you seriously!” She looked down at the practice yard far below them, mentally measuring the distance, then picked up the slight elf and yelled, “Hang on tight if you don’t wanna die!” and leapt from the branch.

Edelweiss let out a terrified shriek that nearly deafened Callindra but she hung on tight as the wind whistled around their ears. Far below there was a flurry of activity as the elves in the practice yard scurried about trying to figure out how to catch the falling pair. Laughing in wild abandon, Callindra twirled Brightfang in an intricate pattern, forcing the Weave to obey her whim and just before they hit the ground a blast of wind cushioned their fall.

The tiny elf maid opened her eyes and gasped in surprise. “What’s happening? Is this Magic then? It is isn’t it?” She was still hanging on to Callindra’s neck but less tightly now, her eyes shining with admiration. They had landed in the center of the practice yard amid a cluster of furious elves. The elf who had kicked her out before was the closest and in a rage.

“Edelweiss! What in the name of all that’s holy are you doing with this weave wielding savage?” Turning her baleful gaze at Callindra he continued, “What have you done to my son?”

Too stunned to respond, Callindra stared as Edelweiss retorted, “Leave over mother, she is an amazing and talented warrior. I accidently imposed upon her morning practice ritual and she saved me from falling.”

Not precisely true, but a close enough approximation she supposed… but wait, Edelweiss was a boy? Not possible he was far too pretty. “Sorry for the inconvenience. I need to pack for my journey so I’ll take my leave if you don’t mind?” Callindra didn’t suppose she had much of a chance at avoiding a few bruises at this point but it was worth a shot.

“I think not human. I think you need to learn a lesson in manners. As swordmaster I think it’s only fitting I be the one to issue that lesson.” Oh shit. “Why didn’t you tell me your MOM was the rutting SWORDMASTER?”  She hissed at the other girl.

“No need to be afraid mortal.”  The elf said coldly, “I will not kill one who bears the favor of my Goddess.”

“Well, no harm in a little practice I suppose.”  Callindra said, “Maybe I might learn something. If there’s anything I’ve learned thus far in life it’s that pain is a good teacher and what doesn’t kill me has made me stronger.”

“In that case, prepare for a very good lesson girl.”

“Sorry I may have mistaken you for a man earlier.  What is your name?” Callindra never could resist picking at scabs or antagonizing assholes.  She wouldn’t mind being mistaken for a boy, but she bet this elf would take insult.

“To the hells with practice blades” the blademster snarled, “Let’s see what you can do with that little wisp of steel.  You can have my name when you EARN it.”

Callindra sighed, oh well at least she wouldn’t have to worry about fighting with an unfamiliar weapon. But this was gonna HURT.

Callindra strode forward, linking arms with Tryst.  She wanted him by her side if she was facing some sort of formal introduction.  Reaching back to touch Brightfang’s hilt for reassurance she stepped into the largest room she had ever seen.  It would have swallowed the entire Cathedral in Arkasia and still left room on all sides.  In the center a figure was sitting on a simple wooden chair surrounded by twining vines, butterflies and small animals of every description.

“Callindra Sol’Estin, Apprentice of the North Wind Style, Bearer of Brightfang, Wind Warrior and Bladespeaker.”  A voice intoned as she passed the threshold.

“Tryst Te’Chern, Priest of the Ancient One, Wielder of the Scared Waters and Guardian of the Healing Light.”

“Vilhylm Greldiachanin, Master of Masks, Follower of the Carnival of Tricksters and Heir of the Great Caravan.”

“Cronos Torrantrach, Inheritor of the Eternal Flame, Student of the Master of Fire and Vessel of Vengeance.”

Callindra looked at her friends, the questions on her face mirroring theirs.  Before any of them could make comment, another voice cut through the room.

“Welcome Champions, to my dining hall.”  Jorda’s words were filled with inherent power, but it was the slow and certain strength of growing, living things.  “The evil that you vanquished would have arrived here eventually regardless of what you might have done, but your swift and decisive actions have led us to victory.”

The Goddess turned and gestured toward long tables laden with food and drink, “Please join us in celebration.”

To Callindra’s horror, she could clearly see a blackened scar that cut from just behind Jorda’s right eye and disappeared into the simple white tunic she wore.  It puckered the growing green color of her skin with a line of what looked like diseased tree bark.  It seemed Gods could be wounded after all.

“Are you all right?”  Callindra blurted without thinking,

“Dear child, thank you for your concern.”  Jorda said with a beautiful smile, “I greet you and your companions.  Tonight you may ask any boon of me.  You have fought off those who would have destroyed my realm and I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“Give me the strength to dominate my enemies.”  Cronos said without hesitation, almost as though he had been anticipating this.

“This obviously hasn’t been a problem for you youngster.”  Said Jorda, “However I think I can assist you in protecting yourself.” She handed him a small token carved of wood with a smile.  “Wear it and call upon me during battle.”

“I have been sent on a holy quest to find the wisdom to contact Gode The Elder.”  Tryst said, “Please can you tell me how I can speak with him?”

“I have information that you will find valuable young Priest.”  The Goddess said, “However, I have insight that will guide you also.  If you will accept my guidance that is.”

“Of course I will accept your guidance Great Lady.”  He said, bowing low.

“You aren’t even going to ask your Ancient One first?”  Jorda asked, amusement tinging her words.  “Very well then, look into my eyes young priest.”

Tryst looked into her face, his eyes uncertain.  His mouth had a firm set to it though.  “I will accept his judgement if he deems my actions to be improper.”  He said.

“Ah, we need more like you.”  Jorda said with a merry laugh, “Your irreverence is good for us.”  A flash of green gold fire flashed between their eyes.

“All I wish is to be able to redeem myself.”  Vilhylm said when Jorda turned to him.  His voice was almost too soft for Callindra to hear.

“You have already done so, even if you refuse to acknowledge it.”  Jorda replied, almost as softly, “I cannot give you forgiveness for those who died, but I can give you the strength to fight for the living.”

“I no longer wish to fight.”  He said, his eyes downcast.

“But we need warriors.”  Jorda insisted, putting a finger under his chin and raising his face to look into hers.  “You have seen things far beyond what most mortals have, but there is more strength in you than know.  I will give you something that you can use to help your friends, or create a powerful weapon to strike at the heart of evil.”

She drew a small, very sharp knife from a sheath at her belt and bent gracefully, cutting into the bark like skin of her thigh.   Carefully, she cut a square of it away and pried off a perfect piece of wood.  She placed it in Vilhylm’s trembling hands and placed a kiss on his forehead.  The wound closed swiftly, new bark beginning to grow over it, but her leg still oozed fluid that looked more like sap than blood.

“Please just bless me and my friends.”  Said Callindra, looking Jorda in her eyes, “We brought the evil here, it was only natural we would assist in eradicating it.”

“Your humility is a credit to your nature Callindra.”  Jorda said, “However I think you would do well to address the other parts of yourself.  Being a warrior does not mean you aren’t a woman.  In spite of what the folk you have grown up around may have caused you to believe, being a woman does not indicate weakness.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”  Callindra demanded, forgetting herself.

“It means that if you can’t accept who you are and insist on acting recklessly in order to prove your worth you are probably going to get hurt a lot and probably die.”  Jorda said, “I will give you something to perhaps keep you alive until you manage to learn to value yourself as your companions do.”

She reached out a hand and plucked a strand of her own hair from her head and wove it deftly into a small tiara.  It started to sprout tiny Brightstar flowers that perfumed the air with their delicate scent.  Before Callindra could back away Jorda placed it on her head and the vine grew into her hair.  Not wanting to insult the Goddess, she left it there even though it made her feel like a fool.

“I know you are here to ask a question of me and I have no satisfactory answer for you.”  Jorda said, her voice grave.  “All I have is yet another quest, if you’re up to it.”

“You mean you don’t know why Gode isn’t responding to the prayers of his priests?” Tryst said, staring at her in disbelief.

“My father has… faded from our sight.”  Jorda said, sounding tired.  “His influence over the world is waning and the forces that bind his brother are weakening.  I think you may all have felt the influence of that in this world.”

“You mean the green… glowing things?”  Callindra asked, “The things we’ve been calling Abyssal Spawn?”

“Yes.  Those are the servants of Gode’s brother Onde, the ancient God of Destruction.”  Jorda confirmed, “They are not of this world.  Their goal is to destroy this world and everything in it.  If they aren’t stopped they will achieve their goal.  This world needs defenders, and if those defenders aren’t determined it will fall.”

Callindra felt her breath catch in her throat at this simple declaration.  The implication that she was one of those with the power to defy the forces that sought to bring an end to the world that she loved was too much for her to take in.  It was all too much.

“What in the hells are you talking about?”  Cronos demanded harshly, “Look, we were hired to go to the ruins of Lin Lamorak and speak with the Druids there.  When we got there, all that was left was the Dryad Tyreen.  She told us to come here and this was supposed to be the end of that trek,”

“You have earned your reward many times over Cronos and no one would question your integrity if you brought back the information you have gained thus far.”  Said the Goddess, smoothing stray locks of hair away from her face that blew in a capricious breeze.  “I am asking you to go above and beyond what you had initially agreed to do, and I fear I can offer little in the way of reward.”

“I don’t want a reward.”  Callindra said, “I just don’t see how you expect me to do anything against a God.”

“I can give you this.”  Jorda took a pendant from around her neck and handed it to Tryst.  A small hand, the size of an infant’s hung from it.  “This is my piece of the mold that formed the original human.  Each one of Gode’s children was charged with one of them and each of us kept ours safe in their own way.  I fear most of them are scattered and lost, however this one has the unique property that it can point out the closest one of its brothers.”

Tryst took it reverently, and when it touched his palm it spun gently, pointing roughly north.  “I cannot accept this.”  He said softly.

“But if you find them all and assemble them, we will be able to re-establish communication with Gode.”  Jorda said, “If you truly wish to accomplish the mission you were assigned then this is the only way.”

“I want to help you Tryst, I really do.”  Callindra said, “But I can’t just abandon Glarian.  Before I go off on some crazy quest I have to go and find him.  He needs me.”

Jorda looked at her, as if unsure exactly how she should respond.  Finally she gestured to the room, “Why don’t we stop all this serious talk and enjoy the wonderful food and entertainment that has been prepared in your honor?  You do not need to make any decisions right now.”

In spite of being nearly certain that the Goddess was withholding something from her, Callindra was drawn into the fantastic scene before her.  The elves who were here weren’t the battle hardened soldiers she had met so far.  Beautiful women in flowing gowns that seemed finer than spider silk.  Equally gorgeous men in tailored, fitted suits and boots with high heels that clicked on the floor.

Both sexes had their pale hair braided in intricate patterns that made her eyes swim.  Delicate clips shaped like insects, birds and leaves wrought in gold, silver and platinum held the braids in place.  Jewels shone in place of eyes and drops of dew.  The language they spoke was fluid and made Callindra feel as though her words sounded like a handful of nails being dropped down a sheet of metal.

Even though their Goddess had spoken to thank Callindra and her friends, most of the Elves seemed to hold themselves aloof from the humans.  She didn’t hold it against them though, after all she and her friends had brought the evil into their home.  The fact that they’d banished it didn’t wipe out their involvement.

The food wasn’t what she had expected either.  Rather than just vegetables, the tables were laden with thinly sliced, barely seared venison, whole rabbits stuffed with wild onions and slow roasted, skewers with spit roasted birds, pastries filled with only gods knew what baked to a golden brown.

It all smelled so delicious that her misgivings gave way to her appetite.  She sat with her friends, and they all ate and drank, letting go of their fears and inhibitions.  Even if all here didn’t trust them or appreciate their efforts they were together and they had won.  That wasn’t everything that she needed but it was enough for now.

“Callindra, are you awake?”  Tryst sounded as though he had been up for days.

She opened bleary eyes, “I guess so.”  Sitting up she surveyed her surroundings.  The walls, floor and ceiling were all wood.  Not wood paneling, but solid, polished wood.

“Praises be.”  He said, “Now we need to secure an audience with the Druids.”

“Tryst, you look like shit.”  Callindra said bluntly, “I don’t think any high ranking officials would want to meet you right now.  Why don’t you lay down in my bed for a minute, I’ll see if we can schedule an audience or whatever they do here.”

She stood up, noting that she was only wearing her underbreeches.   Her chest wrap was missing, either burned by the insects or cut off for her treatment.  Ignoring the creeping feeling of embarrassment she guided Tryst to the bed and covered him with the blanket.  After a short search of the chamber she located a loose tunic and pulled it on.  What she did not locate was a door.

“Hey!”  She shouted, “Let me out of here!”

A door opened in the wall, a seamless joining that she never would have seen.  A pair of Elven guards stood outside, hands on their sword hilts.  They stared at her for a few moments, her shocked by their sudden appearance, they by her being on her feet.

“Where is my sword?”  She asked, “I demand that my Brightfang be returned to me, what is the meaning of us being imprisoned like this?”

“You are not imprisoned Lady Callindra.”  One of them said, “These chambers are designed for you to recover as quickly as possible.  Your other friends are still asleep, we believed you would also be sleeping for at least another few hours…”

“Yeah, well Tryst has his ways of speeding our recovery along.” She said, eyes flashing with defiance.  Her voice trembled with apprehension though, spoiling the effect.  Callindra imagined she could feel her magic building inside of her, threatening to tear her apart without her blade and fear began reaching icy fingers down her spine.  “What have you done with my sword?”

“All of your personal effects are in a salon set aside for your use.”  The guard said, “If you would follow me please Miss Sol’Estin I would be happy to show you the way.”

Feeling like there must be some kind of trap but unable to see it, Callindra cautiously stepped out of the room.  One of the soldiers led her down a short hallway into a room that had light breezes blowing through it.  One entire wall was open to the outside which showed a vista of pristine treetops.  The ground was not visible.

“Where…”  She took a deep breath, noticing her armor, clothes and most importantly her sword in a tidy pile on a table.  Letting the breath out as her hand closed over Brightfang’s hilt she amended what she had been going to say.  “Where are we?”

“We are in the Grandfather.  In Jorda’s domain.”  He said, “You are guests of honor.”

“Inside the tree?”  She said, her voice dropping to a whisper.  “I knew it was big but… this is amazing.”

“He is vast.”  The Elf agreed, “Outsiders are always overawed by him.”

“I don’t think I would ever stop being awed by this sight.”  Callindra said, looking out the window again.  “I mean… look at it.”

A ghost of a smile played around the corners of the soldier’s mouth.  When he spoke again, his voice was far more friendly.  “You will find breakfast for you here.  If you need anything else, please come to the door and call out.  I will be here.  Later the Goddess wishes you to join her in the main feasting hall.”

“W-what?”  Callindra stammered.  “I’m a warrior, not some simpering maiden who goes to fancy feasts!  Besides, I don’t have clothes to wear to attend a Goddess!”

Now the Elven warrior did smile, “She does not stand on ceremony Miss Sol’Estin.  There is nothing more appropriate for you to wear than your armor, seeing as how it is your status as a warrior that is being honored.”

“Wait, where are my friends?”  She asked, swallowing hard.  “Did the others survive?”

“Your friends weren’t quite as resilient as you seem to have been.”  He said, “They rest, recovering with the help of the young priest’s ministrations.  We expect them to be ready to attend the feast tonight.  Please, break your fast and refresh yourself.”

Callindra watched him turn to leave, unsure of what to make of his statements.  She hadn’t really believed in Gods and Goddesses until yesterday when she had felt more than heard Jorda address the monstrous golem.  Now she was expected to believe that a being that wielded such power wanted to see her and didn’t expect her to be some kind of lady.

“I want to see them.”  She said, managing to focus on what was truly important.  “I won’t be able to relax until I see my friends.”

“By all means.”  He replied easily, “However you must not awaken them.  They must rest if they are to fully recover.”

He led her back down the hallway and she was able to peer through small windows in the unbroken wood wall that opened at his touch.  There she saw Cronos in one room, and Vilhylm in another.  Tryst she had already seen.  Satisfied, she went back to the open balcony.

The smell of freshly baked bread drew her attention to the table where an assortment of food was laid out.  Hunger drove her apprehension away, it would be much easier to deal with these things once she had a full stomach.  She sat and ate, the bread had nuts in it and there were fresh vegetables and fruit as well as a light and refreshing mead.

“Good to know you were concerned about us.”  Cronos said dryly from the doorway.

“It’s not like I was going to wake you from your beauty sleep.”  She said, “You looked just fine to me when I looked in on you not ten minutes ago.”

“Is that fresh bread?”  Cronos asked, “If it is I may just forgive you.”

“They have fresh apples and cheese and an amazing mead too.”  She said, “Come and get some before I eat it all.”

Before long, Vilhylm had arrived as well and they fell to talking about what they remembered of the battle.

“I saw you flying through the air and then I’m sure it was my imagination but it looked like you rode your sword down that thing’s back.”  Cronos said.

“Did you let it throw you first?”  Vilhylm asked with a grin, “I can’t see any other way you’d have been able to get that high in the air… but surely you wouldn’t have done something so reckless.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw you practically breaking yourself in half to lift a huge wave of mud to squish a few bugs Vil.”  Said Cronos, “How did that work out for you?”

“I was the first one to recover in spite of Tryst visiting me last.”  Callindra said, chuckling.  “I think maybe you two boys could learn a lesson or two from me.”

“Actually, it’s because we thought you had died.”  Vilhylm said, all traces of levity vanishing from his face.  “You didn’t see what happened as a result of your attack.”

“It was as though beneath its skin there was nothing but those insect things.”  Said Cronos, “They covered you, even though a small cyclone of wind seemed to form briefly around you, holding them off.  That was impressive by the way.”

“I don’t remember much past hacking the damn thing off at the knees.”  Callindra admitted, taking a swig of mead to hide her embarrassment and pleasure at her friends concern.

“It was a foolish, reckless, stupid move Callindra.”  Tryst said as he walked through the door.  “But it likely saved us all.  If you hadn’t stopped that thing… it was about to infect the Grandfather Tree with its disease and maybe kill Jorda as well.”

“Don’t be silly Tryst.”  Said Callindra, “Gods can’t be killed.”

At that point, the door opened and a swarm of Elven attendants descended on them.  Some took their armor and attempted to take their weapons as well, but Callindra wasn’t relinquishing Brightfang for anyone.  The rest of them took the boys off into one bathing chamber and her into another.

“Miss, you really should leave your sword outside, it’ll rust.”  One of the attendants said, frowning at Brightfang.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.”  Callindra said, “I oil him daily.  He won’t rust while I draw breath and I won’t let him out of reach if I can help it.”

The elves looked at her skeptically, but made no further comment.  When she walked into the bathing chamber she began to see what they had worried about.  Instead of submerging themselves in a full bath, it seemed they drank copious amounts of water and then sat in a room with magically heated stones in the center.  Once the room was sufficiently hot, one of them began pouring water over the stones, releasing clouds of steam.

Sweat sprang from every pore and soon Callindra found herself getting lightheaded and feeling a bit dizzy.  Following the lead of the other women around her, she took a small cedar bough in her hand and dipped it in a bucket of cold water before slapping herself on the back with it.  The chill of the water and the sting of the branch kept her alert and actually felt quite good, relaxing muscles and releasing tension she had been hanging on to since the battle.

Once a good sweat had covered her, she took a curved piece of bone, the rib of a deer she thought, and used it to scrape her skin.  A surprising amount of dirt showed on the white surface of the bone.  When one of the Elves noticed her shock, she smiled knowingly.

“The sweat forces out what is in the pores of your skin, making you cleaner than any amount of scrubbing could.”  She said, “Then the plunge afterword will truly cleanse you.”

“I didn’t expect anything like this.”  Callindra admitted, drinking from a gourd filled with pure rain water.  “It seems like I will be exhausted from all this sweating though.”

“Come, allow me to oil your hair.”  The other woman replied, “With proper care your tresses could shine like mahogany.  Most of us are fair of skin and hair, yours is quite exotic.”

Callindra laughed in spite of herself, “Exotic is just another word for freak in the human world, and my hair is the least of the qualities I value.”

Finally clean and dried; the bath having ended in a shocking plunge into a pool of ice cold water, Callindra donned her freshly laundered clothes and polished armor.  After taking time to unwrap Brightfang’s hilt, polish all of his metal parts, oil the leather wrapping of his hilt and re-wrap it tightly, she felt like her ablutions were complete.  If she had to meet a Goddess, she was as ready as she was likely to be.

Her friends all had similar uncertain expressions on their faces as they emerged from the male side of the bathing chamber.  Even so, with their familiar gear on their shoulders squared and their backs straightened.  Whatever they were about to experience, they would do it at their best.

“I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you all continue to fight beside me.”  Callindra said, looking at her companions.  “My brothers in arms… you are better brothers than any sister has a right to.”

Tryst laughed a deep bass laugh that came from deep in his chest, “Oh Callindra, you undervalue yourself at every turn.  You aren’t some accessory to us, you’re the heroine!  It was your action that defeated the monster and led us to victory.  Speaking for myself, I am honored to fight alongside you.”

“The honor is indeed ours.”  Vilhylm said, the midnight of his cloak a direct contrast to the pristine white and sliver of Tryst’s attire.

“You … you fight good.”  Cronos mumbled, “Don’t leave or things might get boring.”

“The Goddess Jorda awaits you.”  A voice ahead intoned formally, “She wishes to express her gratitude for the actions you took to defend her realm.  Please, approach that you may be announced.”