Chapter 2 part 3

Marlena awoke the next morning with a stabbing ache in her side. She turned over in her bedroll and lay in its warm embrace, dreading the coming week. Like most women, she often experienced discomfort at these times. And having at least a moderate sense of humor, she often had made jokes with her male companions about her monthly problems. That morning, though, she was not feeling too jovial. She could tell that it was going to be one of those more difficult occasions, and she pitied the eight men for the difficult days ahead. She did not intend to be cranky, it was just the way of things. She certainly did not wish to inflict her foul mood upon her companions. Well, maybe a little bit.
Peeking out from under her blanket, she spied Keeneye and Norwind cooking up a batch of fish by the fire. She groaned. The last thing she needed was to have to listen to Norwind philosophize about female problems. She was sure that he knew it irritated her and that gave him all the more reason to do it. She was quite certain, though, that if he tried to tell her it was all in her mind again, she was going to break his elven neck and feed him to the fish.
Reluctantly, she crawled out of her bed. The air was chilly but not cold, and the previous day’s storm was all but forgotten. Under the early morning sunlight--only one of the suns had risen--the whole sandy beach had turned a luminous pale blue color. Marlena took little note of the beauty of the morning as she staggered like a drunken sailor over to the camp fire and opened Seymore's pack.
With Keeneye and Norwind watching her, she withdrew an all too frequently used flask of familiar type. Marlena noted the smirks and hastily covered grins of her companions as she pulled the cork. With as much dignity as she could muster, she turned her nose up at the snickering pair and said, "For medicinal purposes." Her statement was punctuated by the pop of the cork.
Quickly before anyone else could see her, she turned the flask up and took two long droughts of the potent liquor. After swallowing the harsh elixir, she innocently returned the cork and bottle to Seymore's pack and then took up a place next to the fire.
Marlena noticed with casual disinterest that she was still being observed and there were several whispers and nudgings. Finally, when she'd had enough she turned an cold glare at the two elves. "Gentlemen," she said in a voice that sent ice water running through their veins. "If you do not cease that snickering and keep you mouths shut," and for emphasis she stood with one hand on her hip and the other shaking a finger at the two laughing boys, "there will be two less elves in this neck of the woods!"
Keeneye swallowed hard and exchanged a nervous glace at Norwind. One never really knew when Marlena was joshing or serious. "Yes ma'am," they replied in chorus.
Marlena maintained her glare for a few extra seconds for good measure. Then when she was satisfied that her dignity had been reinstated, she announced that she wasn't feeling well and would be returning to bed for a few more hours. As she left the fire, she thought she heard a snicker, but after the scolding she had just dished out, she found it hard to believe that either Norwind or Keeneye would risk her wrath. She reassured herself that they wouldn't have dared to do that.
Meanwhile, Avery and Ultrecht were down on the beach skipping shells into the calm ocean. "I was looking at the map this morning," Ultrecht said as he hurled a flat stone into the surf. The rock bounced four times before a wave crest reached up out of the water to catch it. "It shows a small fishing village between here and the Twin Cities." Ultrecht watched Avery lob a shell into the water clumsily. "Do you think it might be possible to get ocean passage there or maybe some airborne mounts?"
"I'm sure we will find out when we get there, but I wouldn't hold my breath," Avery commented as he picked up another shell.
"I won’t," Ultrecht said. “It was just a thought.” He slung another pitch into the water. This time the stone zipped down a trough between waves for nine skips.
Avery looked sidewise at the robed man. "You have been practicing this, haven't you?"
Ultrecht returned a hurt expression. "Would I do that?"
The ranger shook his head futilly. "Okay, you win, Ultrecht,” he conceded “I will buy the next nine rounds of drinks, but don’t ask me to play this game with you anymore."
“I’m hurt,” the Elementalist claimed. “We have played this game for decades, and you usually win.”
“Has that trip affected your memory?” Avery asked. “You have won the last three times!”
“Well, maybe I have gotten a bit lucky a time of two,” Ultrecht admitted, “But it’s only a couple of rounds of drinks. And you aren’t hurting for money.”
“I’m not rich,” Avery assured his comrade.
“No, but you always hang around Armegon, and he has more money than he knows what to do with.”
“So do you,” Avery pointed out.
“Not so,” Ultrecht argued. “I’ll never have more money than I know what to do with.”
“Are you trying to say that you aren’t filty rich?” Avery asked with an accusing undertone.
“Oh, no,” Ultrecht answered. “It’s just that there is no amount of money that I can’t think of something to do with it.”
Avery laughed in spite of himself. “Very funny. Okay, well I’ll buy the beer, but don’t expect dinner too.”
"Why thank you," Ultrecht said as he walked back towards the bluff. Then calling over his shoulder, he added, "I am sure Seymore will be pleased to hear that."
"Jerk!" Avery said shaking his fist. "I'll wind up in debtor's prison by the time he and his army of drinking buddies get through."
"Let's hope they get a chance to do that," Ultrecht murmured seriously.
Later Armegon and Tyson were sitting near the foot of the bluff when Ultrecht came upon them.
Tyson was smoking a pipe from which emanated a strange pungent smell that caught Ultrecht's attention as he approached.
Armegon was scribbling some words in a little book when Ultrecht walked up. "Good morning gentlemen," Ultrecht offered.
"Far out man," replied Tyson. "Like why don't you join us, bud?"
Ultrecht sniffed at the smoke coming from Tyson's pipe. "What in the world are you doing?" he asked finally.
Tyson leaned back and giggled. "Wow dude, like it's fantastic. I mean I ran out of pipeweed this morning, y'know? And, I find this stuff." He indicated a pile of plants with multiple long thin leaves in a hand-like pattern at the end of each stem. "Well, I just had to try it out and guess what?" he paused to take a drag from the pipe. When he had a full drag in his lungs, he held his breath for about five seconds then let it out slowly. "This stuff has a totally awesome kick!" He offered the pipe to Ultrecht. "C'mon dude, it's mellowing. Try it." Tyson jerked his head towards Armegon. "I offered 'Airhead' there some but he was a party pooper." Tyson then took another drag from his pipe.
Ultrecht observed Tyson for a few moments as the man continued to partake of his discovery "Do you think it is some kind of narcotic?" he asked Armegon.
"I am not sure, but the effect does seem to impair his reasoning and mellow out his mood." Armegon regarded his book for a moment and then continued. A while ago, I got him to stop for about half an hour, and there was a definite sign of the effect wearing off." Armegon closed his book and pulled a bag from one of the many pockets on the inside of his robe. "This could prove useful in the future, and I want to study it further. I am going to collect some samples and seeds for further research later."
"Cool," said Tyson, now making a vain attempt to stand. "What a totally radical idea. We can grow a whole forest of this stuff and sell it. Man, we'll make jillions."
"Sure we will," Ultrecht said as he helped Tyson to a steady stance. "But first, we need to get you back to camp so someone can keep an eye on you until you sober up." He placed one of Tyson's limp arms over his shoulder and Armegon took the other one as they started their way back up the bluff.
Seymore and Samson had found a small inlet about an hour's walk to the east of the camp. They had gone foraging for food. The tide was low and shallow pools teemed with various forms of aquatic life. And though the crustaceans were in great supply, they did not appear very appetizing.
A broad but not too deep inlet flowed out of a nearby marsh and several quick shadows suggested that there might be edible fish within. With that in mind it had not taken long for Samson to cut some crude spears for fishing.
The water was brisk and exhilarating, but not too cold. After several failed attempts, the two big warriors had managed to get the feel of their makeshift spears and finally skewered several sizable fish. After half an hour, with their catch in hand and the second sun rising, they abandoned the inlet and wrapped their catch in a some large leaves. They completed the packaging by binding the wrappings with vines, then they started the long walk back to camp.
"After that forced march in that ungodly storm, I think we should stop for a day of rest," Samson said absently. It was the most that he had said that morning. The big man had been uncommonly quiet since the loss of Scarlet. It had been eating him alive with guilt and shame.
Seymore had also been melencholy. Scarlet had been his best friend, and the loss was terrible. A few years earlier, and he would have gone on the mother of all drinking binges, but when he took up the druidic studies, he had had to come to terms with life and death and the necessity of both. It was the only thing that kept him from completely losing his composure. It was the law of nature that all living things died eventually.
Seymore smiled reassuringly toward Samson. He wanted the big man to know that no one held him responsible for Scarlet’s death. Any words to that affect that had been uttered had been done so out of haste and hurt.
"I tend to agree with you, my friend," he told Samson. "But, as long as we are in the wilderness under travelling and survival conditions, Avery has the last word on that matter."
"Oh really?" Samson said with a touch of sarcasm. "I don't recall electing him king." The anger may have been misplaced, but it needed venting and the do-gooder Avery was as good a target as any.
"Oh come now," said Seymore, "he doesn't think he's a king. You know how rangers can be. The whole lot of them get very pushy and bossy in the wild."
"I know,” Samson admitted. “I trust him out here only because there’s no one who knows survival better than he does. But that goody two shoes attitude of his really irks me."
"And Armegon doesn't?"
"I’m rarely in a situation where I depend on Armegon."
"True, but we’re not often in this kind of situation either."
"Maybe," Samson admitted. "It's just that Avery and Armegon too, for that matter, don't understand the importance of maintaining balance in life. Their beliefs are contrary to the overall ways of nature."
“How so?” Seymore asked.
“Avery’s a communist. He wants everyone to be poor and obedient to some higher purpose.” Samson kicked at a clump of seaweed irritably. “I have talked to him over and over, and just can’t get him to realize that it is impossible for everyone to live that way.”
“Well Armegon is certainly not a communist,” Seymore pointed out. “If anything he is more of an opportunist. Maybe he is even a capitalist in some way.”
“Perhaps,” Samson agreed. “The thing I get tired of is their constant worry about opposing evil this or demonic that or diabolical whatever. They have no sense of the importance of balance.”
“That’s just their nature,” Seymore reminded his companion. “Elves and halfelves are generally good folk. It’s not all that surprising that they would inherit those tendencies.”
“Keeneye didn’t,” Samson countered.
Seymore nodded. “Keeneye was an orphan. He was raised in the thieves guild for part of his life, but look at what happened to him when Armegon caught him.”
“I suppose I can see your point,” Samson conceded.
“And don’t worry about Avery’s communistic ideals,” Seymore urged. “He doesn’t really try to force them on anyone who isn’t willing to listen.
“Except Armegon,” Samson laughed.
Seymore joined in on the jest. They had all heard the ranger and the sorcerer go at it for hours on end over some trivial arguable point. “They do like to squabble don’t they?”
“Sometimes I think they are going to be at each other’s throats by the end of the day,” Samson chortled.
"They really are quite fond of each other," Seymore said thoughtfully.
"I don't follow you."
"Haven't you watched them work together?"
"Yes."
"And how do they do?"
"Well I’ve never seen them defeated, if that’s what you mean. They bicker a little bit, but it seems to be over little unimportant things. They never fight over anything serious."
"That is rather odd considering their differences, don't you think?"
"What do you mean?" asked Samson curiously.
"Avery believes in total restraint and control for the common good, right?"
"And Armegon believes in total freedom as long as no one comes to harm."
"Theoretically, they shouldn't get along very well."
Samson shook his head. "You're giving me a headache."
"And you weren’t around when they last had one of their heated arguments."
"When was this?"
Seymore seemed to stare off into the distance for second. "About a month ago, I think. Usually when they get bored between adventures they think of something to fight about." He smiled to himself. "I think the last one was about whether or not there was such a thing as a fact."
"Who won?" Samson asked.
"I don't think either one got the upper hand on that one. They were still at it the next day, and hadn't even stopped long enough to sleep. But after about four days, I do believe they came to a mutual compromise."
"And that was?"
"They decided that they were just figments of each other's imagination."
"You see!" Samson exclaimed. "That’s what I mean. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard."
"But it explains how they understand the balance of things."
"Oh? How?" he inquisitively retorted.
"Neither one would ever admit that he was wrong, so they sought a compromise between the two extremes. That gives us the balance. Their compromise is for the greater good."
"The greater good," Samson repeated. "That in itself is an imbalance. There can not be good without evil."
"I know that, and you know that, but we are realists, and they are idealists. I don't think we will really have to worry about it. There seems to be an abundance of evil in the world. I don't think the balance is in jeopardy."
"You know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think those two don't know what they think." Samson paused. "And I still don't like Avery's bossiness."
"Well, let's just put up with it a little longer. Once we get out of the woods, he will probably chill out." Seymore smiled and slapped his friend on the back. "Then, you can listen to Ultrecht boss everyone around."
"At least he has his head on straight."
"Are you sure?"
Samson gave the sky a 'why me' look. "Now, don't start that again!"
It was mid-morning when Seymore and Samson arrived back at the bluff. There seemed to be a discussion going on when they entered camp as everyone else was gathered around talking.
"I think it would be best if we camped here for another day," Avery was saying.
Seymore nudged Samson and whispered, "I think he heard your griping." Samson ignored the playful tease.
"Ultrecht and I have agreed that there will most likely be a full moon tonight,” the ranger explained. “Marlena has expressed some concerns. She wants to harvest some mistletoe for her incantations, and Seymore will probably need to as well. The full moon is necessary for this."
“There are two moons,” Armegon asked. “Only one of them will be full. How will that affect their rituals?”
“We really can’t be sure,” Marlena spoke out. “The mistletoe should be potent enough to work with, but I suspect that it would be much more potent if gathered under a double full moon.”
“I had forgotten about druidic magic being dependant on natural conditions,” Ultrecht mused. “Two moons and two suns should make some interesting study. I wonder how the Ritual of the Solstice is changed?”
“Let’s hope we get home before we get the chance to investigate it,” Marlena answered. “But once home, it would make an interesting research project. I may come and move into your keep for a few months while we talk about it in great length.”
“You will be a most welcome houseguest,” Ultrecht assured her. “Somehow, I am sure that your cooking is better than Avery’s.”
Marlena glanced questioningly at the ranger. Avery chuckled and then assured her that Ultrecht was joking. He informed her that the Elementalist had a full staff at his keep complete with a fine chef.
While everyone enjoyed the light amusement, Avery spied the two fishermen returning. "So we will probably stay to allow the druids to attend to their rituals. And since Marlena is rather unwell, to force onward would just complicate matters."
"Why don't you just heal her?" asked Seymore with a questioning glance at the seated woman.
It was obvious that Avery was uncomfortable with the subject. "Well," he finally answered, "I can't heal her, uh, problem without making her barren in the process."
Seymore understood and grinned in spite of himself and the icy stare that the woman graced him with. How could he pass up this opportunity to get in a couple of early morning points. "You know there is a way to alleviate this problem for about nine months."
Marlena was about to retaliate with a line of her own but, as usual, Samson came to her defense. "My lady," he said, "you must forgive him. He is doomed to this life of vulgarity until he can satisfy a single woman with what little character he has. As you can see, he's had a lot of practice at being vulgar."
Norwind and Keeneye howled with laughter. Seymore made every attempt to appear shocked and Marlena tried her best to put on a snooty face. Samson had scored a major point and it could take a few days before Seymore could retaliate and recover his pride.
With the battle of the wits unfolding a new chapter in its long history, Avery joined Ultrecht and Armegon as they stood near the edge of the bluff overlooking the narrow beach. "Where is Tyson?" he asked as he hunted around.
"He is running around searching for more of that weed he has been smoking," Armegon informed him.
"Is that stuff going to harm him?" Avery asked in return.
"Not yet, but it might in the long run." Armegon gave a concerned glare at Ultrecht and Avery. "It might be addictive."
Ultrecht sighed, "Let's wait and see. I don't think it can do anything that can't be cured."
Armegon changed the subject. "How long have we been here?"
"About three cycles of the larger moon," said Avery.
Ultrecht sifted through some notes in a record book that he habitually kept while adventuring. "There seems to be about forty days per cycle of the larger moon here. Also, there appears to be about ten hours of daylight and ten hours of night."
"That is all very neat and tidy," commented Armegon.
"I have also calculated that the small moon's sidereal period is about ten months." Ultrecht closed the book. "All in all the small moon goes through it's phases in about a year by our reckoning."
"And, according to Marlena's discussion with the plant life and animals, every tenth small moon is a summer of extreme heat and humidity," Avery reminded him.
"Well," Armegon posed, "at least we have some concept of time here."
"Yes," Ultrecht added, "two suns and two moons. Incredible isn't it?" He peered over the cliff to the beach some fifty feet or so below him. "I wonder how high the tides get when the suns and moons are in conjunction."
In answer, Avery stooped over and picked up a large shell. "Does this," he said offering the shell as evidence, "answer your question?" Avery kicked through more of the cliff top sand and uncovered more shells and some dry driftwood. "It had occurred to me that with two suns and two moons, there would occasionally be some instances of serious flooding. It could get severe, but I don't think," he said casually, "that I would want to be around to find out." No one argued.
They spent the entire day dozing in the sun, washing clothes and bathing in the water. Tyson had even managed to get Seymore to try his new pipeweed, but Seymore didn't seem to react to it at all. He announced that he only experienced a slight buzz. Aside from that he felt nothing. Instead, he popped the cork on a flask of wine and spent the rest of the morning toasting just about anything that came to mind, then he culed up in a shadey spot to take a nap.
That evening as he was sobering up, Seymore was awakened by Keeneye. The elf was none too delicate. Seymore’s head throbbed a bit, but he was otherwise in good health. He had known that the night would be long, and the alcohol had helped him relax so that he could sleep throughout the latter part of the day.
Avery was helping Marlena prepare her equipment for the evening's activities. Looking up, Seymore saw the bright full moon rising on the eastern horizon into the still dimly lighted, yet sunless sky. With a yawn, he stood and retrieved a solid gold bowl and sickle from his pack. They were necessities for what was to come.
Keeneye watched as the two druids prepared themselves for their ritual. They would never allow anyone to go with them for there were some private and sacred ceremonies involved. He knew that they had to cut mistletoe--the primary component of the druid's spell power--under a full moon, but that is all they would tell anyone.
He had seen Avery use druidic powers before on rare occasion and Avery even went with them on the monthly cuttings on occasion, but Avery was as tight lipped as the druids concerning the procedure. The ranger would only say that he was priviledged to observe the ritual, but, he was not allowed to participate in the ceremony. For his own nature influencing spells, Marlena was always willing to give him some of her cuttings for his use.
Keeneye knew that there was a special trust between druids and rangers. It was almost a magical bond that existed only in the depths of the forests and natural world. The world of both druids and rangers was full of secrets and Keeneye was itching to sneak along behind the two druids. If there was anything he couldn't stand, it was secrets.
But as he reminded himself, if the time and need arose, he was sure Avery or Marlena would take him aside and teach him what was necessary. With a sigh, he abandoned the prospect of tagging along and decided to find Norwind and see what he was doing.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come along?" Avery asked with genuine concern. "You seem to be experiencing more than the usual monthly pain."
"No," said Marlena as she folded her clothes and placed them in her pack. She then adjusted the shoulder line of her silvery robe and took the small shoulder bag that contained her bowl and sickle.
"The least you can do is to let me ease your pain." Avery was almost acting humble and subjugated.
"Thank you," she said, "but due to the stress and tragedy we have been through since we got here, I skipped my last one, and it gave me some concern about menopause. I am quite relieved that my cycle has restarted." She winced at the hidden cramps. "No," she continued as Avery involuntarily reached toward her, "allow me to relish the pain. At least I still have that."
Avery watched her for a moment then without warning reached out and touched her abdomen very lightly. She recoiled angrily, but it was too late. She felt the familiar tingle that was the result of a healing magic. Yet her pain persisted.
"What in the great druid's name did you do to me?" she demanded.
Avery's expression was stern and concerned. "I didn't do anything to you," he said. "I just wanted to verify that nothing was wrong with you."
"And your prognosis, doctor?"
"It is an overdue ovulation," he said. "From your pain I had thought that you were beginning the final part of your cycle. Next week will be worse. On the other hand if you go through with tonight..."
Marlena's voice changed to a hiss. "Swear to me that you won't tell anyone what is going to happen," she demanded.
"You won't be able to hide it for long," Avery said.
"Swear it!" she said almost in tears.
Avery put his arm around her shoulder and bowed his head. "You have my solemn word. I won't tell anyone until you do first."
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You know you don't have to do this," Avery said hopefully. "Seymore can cut enough mistletoe for the three of us and I think I saw some holly and oak not too far from here."
"No," Marlena said with an expression of great resolve. "Seymore and I think that one of the reasons our druidic powers are so weak here is because we are not bonded to the nature of this world." She clenched her fist and dried her eyes. "I must do this."
Avery nodded in understanding. “Good luck to you then,” he said. “I hope I am around when your term is complete.”
She took his hand in hers and squeezed. "I would trust no one else," she assured him. With that, she picked up her small bundle and walked over to the other side of the camp where Seymore was packing. The lesser experienced druid closed his knapsack and donned his ceremonial garb. When he had on his brown and red robe, the two druids walked into the forest leaving Avery alone in the camp.
Avery threw a few dead branches on the dying fire and sat down on a long bench that Norwind had made earlier. The tide was coming in and the others, out foraging for firewood, would be back soon. Avery stared into the dark forest and listened carefully to the sounds of the wildlife. He absently reached into a pouch on his belt and retrieved an old withered holly leaf. The leaf was faded and dry. Avery sat staring at the dead leaf when it gradually began to turn green. He could practically see the moisture running up the leaf's veins. A tell-tale sign of a powerful druidic force in the area. Smiling, he returned the fresh leaf to its pouch. "It has begun," he whispered to the night breeze.