Chapter 3 Part 5

Marlena was not having a good day. So far, she had been awakened by an insect buzzing around her ear. Upon awakening, she found that she was suffering from an awful headache. To make matters worse, she was having trouble holding her breakfast down. She knew from experience that when she was feeling under the weather, she was a grouch of a person to be with, so she took extra care to put forth a happy attitude and refrained from biting off a few heads, namely Ultrecht and Armegon.

The two were having an argument about the usefulness of some unusual effects on lightning-type spells under the near absolute zero cold of one of their cold-based spells. Armegon was claiming that the effort to produce a superconductive lightning bolt far exceeded the benefits of the results.

Ultrecht disagreed. He claimed that the profitable effects could be produced without resorting to such extreme temperatures.

Marlena was positive that she didn't care and concentrated on riding her mount.
Norwind and Keeneye were playing a game of dexterity. Norwind was balancing a dagger on his forehead while juggling various fruits of about the same size. Keeneye would toss in an additional fruit at such a time to make it as difficult as possible for the juggler to continue his task. After a time, Norwind, juggling three apples and four oranges, was having a difficult time at it.

"Quit goofing off," Keeneye goaded, "I've seen you keep up as many as fourteen for half an hour."

With a grunt and a swish of air, Norwind's muscles, trained to the fullest of their potential, contracted and extended in a blur of motion. An apple sprang from the formation of airborne eats to land in Keeneye's lap. Keeneye picked the apple up and discovered that it had a bite taken out of it. He looked at Norwind and saw the elf's jaw working to chew up the missing piece of fruit.

Smirking to himself, he looked at the apple with disgust and said in a voice louder than normal: "Oh, yuch! This apple has half a worm in it!"

Immediately, two apples, four oranges and a dagger fell to the ground. And the expression on Norwind's face indicated that his breakfast might soon follow.

Keeneye gave a hearty laugh and apologized to Norwind, claiming that he was mistaken because it was only a piece of leaf on the apple. To add insult to injury, he pointed out that Norwind had dropped the dagger at seven objects, far less than his own eleven, making him the winner, and condemning Norwind to do his laundry for the rest of the week.

The midday meal and break found Seymore and Samson wetting their hooks in a nearby stream when Marlena announced that she was going for a walk in the nearby forest. No one objected, knowing full well that in the wild was where Marlena was most powerful. Yet, seeing as how the fish were not biting, she asked Samson if he would join her for company. He agreed, and the two of them entered the woodlands together, hand in hand.

Ultrecht watching them go, then turned to Armegon. "Is she gaining weight?"

Armegon glanced up from his sandwich. With wrinkled brow, he said, "I haven't noticed."

"Haven't noticed what?" It was Tyson with Axlea not too far behind. They had been gathering some wood for the fire when Marlena and Samson left.

"These two dirty old men were just commenting on our dear female comrade's bodily shape," Avery interrupted from the horses he and Keeneye were feeding.

"Speaking of Marlena, where is she?" Tyson asked.

"She and Samson went for a walk," Ultrecht informed him.

"Oh really," Tyson replied with one eyebrow shot upward. "And whose idea was that?"

"Believe it or not," Armegon said throwing some brush onto the fire, "it was her idea."

"Has she displayed any affection towards him?" Tyson asked. He dropped an armload of kindling in a pile close to the fire and sat down across from Ultrecht.

Axlea did likewise. "I don't understand what is going on here," he complained.

Tyson poked up a flame from the coals. "It's a long story," he said.

"Are you in a hurry?" Axlea asked.

Tyson looked at Ultrecht, who in turn glanced at Armegon who shrugged. Armegon finally said to Tyson: "You started this, you explain it."

Tyson stared into the coals for a moment as if remembering a bad dream. "The nine of us plus another who died on this journey have been working together for many years. Despite some of our philosophical and moral differences, we have always managed to get along, some better than others.”

“Eight years ago, Marlena and Samson got married and decided to settle down and enjoy the fruits of our joint labors. Samson was a wealthy man, by then, and we all wished them the best. In fact, Marlena had retired from the druidic priesthood's active duty lists."

Tyson shuffled his feet in the dust, while Armegon was peering off into the trees. "Being a landholder, Samson's holdings occasionally came under threat, so when he needed help, he knew that he could always count on us."

Ultrecht coughed, got up and left the fireside. Tyson continued.

“Then, about two years ago, the Dreadknights of Abbadon, a realm of the half-dead, all managed to agree on a single leader and raised an army of the supernatural under the power of the Sword of Destruction, Devastator, against the mortal world." Tyson spat after speaking the name of the dreaded weapon as if the mere speaking left a bad taste in his mouth.

"The war lasted for seven months, and the armies of the mortal world, assisted by those who had no desire to see the Dreadknights victorious, entered the final battle with confidence. In that last stand, the fiend Asianadaemos drew the damned weapon and cast forth a curse against the natural forces of the mortal world. The curse was not correctly invoked and the natural forces overcame the magic. But at the time, Marlena was in communion with the trees and was bonded to nature. The curse hit her very heavily."

Tyson paused for a moment until Axlea urged him to continue. Then, he resumed his oration. "When he saw Marlena fall, Samson went berserk and drew his own enchanted blade to confront the enemy's leader and weapon. What followed can not be put into words. When the two blades met in combat, the ground shook and a chasm opened under both armies.

With most of the Dreadknights' army destroyed or dispatched to their own realm, our enemies retreated leaving only us to witness what followed. When we found Marlena, she was almost dead. Avery worked for twelve hours before he collapsed in a heap at Samson's feet. He had saved her life, but he could not save her memory--the memory of her love for Samson. She could not remember anything more recent than when she had resigned her position as the Great Druid. She could not even remember falling in love with Samson, much less marrying him." Tyson finished his story as he stood and began to walk away from the fire.

"Ever since that day," Armegon added, "Samson has never forgiven Avery and gets insanely jealous if anyone even speaks to Marlena alone." Armegon tossed some more wood onto the fire, for Tyson's narration had taken over an hour. "We all still hold the hope that someday her memory will return on its own."

Armegon turned to address Axlea directly. "It is a tragic story, and our group has not worked well together since. I would ask you to not bring it up around Marlena or Samson."

Axlea assured him that he understood and promised to stay silent.

Not long afterwards, Marlena and Samson returned. Axlea's eyes fell on the hilt of the weapon at his side. It looked quite plain enough to him, but whether it was the story or just something unnatural, its form hinted at enormous power held in check only by the will of an equally powerful man. Axlea then glanced at Marlena, but did not stare for fear of feeling the edge of her protector's blade. Instead, he announced that he thought they should try to make about six more hours of travel before stopping again. And, that they should get started soon. In no time, the fire was out and the animals were loaded. The rest of the day's journey began with Tyson and Axlea in the lead.

The travel was slow for the rest of the day. At first, it had been easy going. As the suns fell low in the sky, Axlea slowed the pace greatly as if he was suspicious of something. When questioned about this, he explained that the Orkon Mountains to the left were notorious for dumping huge blizzards on unwary travelers with little to no warning. He claimed that any sudden change in temperature or humidity was grounds for finding immediate shelter.

Axlea continued on like that for a while longer. Then when the second sun was about to follow it's companion below the horizon, he announced that he wanted to stop for the night. He added that while camp was being made, he wanted to climb up into the rocks to try to get an idea of what weather the night held in store.

When Axlea left, Tyson walked over to where Ultrecht was unpacking a bedroll and a moose hide tent. "I don't know why, but I don't trust that man."

Ultrecht looked up from the tangled lines and tent pegs. "What?"

"I said, I don't trust that man. You know." He gestured into the brush where the guide had passed from view. "Axlea."

"Oh," Ultrecht said looking thoughtful. "Why not?"

"What do you mean, 'why not'," Tyson asked. "I just don't trust him."

"I mean what reason do you have to distrust him?"

Tyson put his hands on his hips and cursed. "You're getting as bad as those halfelves. Did you know that?" With that, he turned towards the woods and started walking away."

"Where are you going?" Ultrecht asked.

"I am going to follow our guide to make sure he doesn't get into trouble," Tyson answered. "I think this guy has something up his sleeve. Call it a hunch." He waved as he stepped out of sight. "I'll Be back soon. Don't worry, I am on the job."

Ultrecht stared at the break in the thicket where both men had disappeared. He wondered if Tyson was actually on to something. It was true that they didn't really know Axlea. And, before hiring him, only Samson had spoken to him. But, Ultrecht reminded himself, Samson was an excellent judge of character, or had been in the past.

Ultrecht dismissed the whole idea of Tyson's suspicion as pure paranoia, possibly brought on by the smoking of that weed he had taken to enjoy on regular occasion. He turned his attention back to untangling the tent lines in case it did rain or snow. He wanted to stay dry in the cold climate.

Samson and Seymore were building a fire pit quite some time later. Tyson and the guide still had not returned when out of nowhere an arrow unexpectedly imbedded itself in Seymore's back. He let out a startled gasp as he crashed to the ground and fumbled for his hammer. Samson instinctively dove behind the bulky form of a large tent that had not been unpacked. Another arrow embedded itself into this mound also.

"We're under attack!" Samson gave the warning as loudly as he could while crouched behind his lifesaving shield. He looked over to where Seymore lay. With an inhuman force of will, the fallen warrior had crawled behind a rock and was leaning heavily against it. His breathing was ragged and he was spitting blood. Seymore, Samson knew, needed help immediately.

Samson looked around camp. Armegon was sitting next to a tree. There was a long red streak along the side of his face--the mark of a near miss. Ultrecht was not far away. He appeared to have avoided any attacks against himself. Near the edge of the clearing, Keeneye knelt next to a fallen horse. He appeared to be peering into the woods, watching for any movement.

With a rustle in the forest behind him, Samson turned around just in time to see Norwind come sprinting into the clearing. Obviously, he had been near enough to hear Samson's shout, but too far to be able to see what was going on.

As soon as the monk was clear of the foliage, the whistle of arrows zipped through the air. With practiced ease, Norwind knocked three of them aside and caught the fourth. Having defended himself adequately and seeing his allies had taken cover, Norwind quickly found himself sharing the massive tent roll with Samson.

Avery was not so lucky. As soon as he stepped into the clearing, a whoosh erupted from the attacker's general vicinity. The form of a small red dot sped through the air in the ranger's direction. Avery tried to leap to safety behind a rock near where Seymore lay, but just as he was beginning to move, the spot on which he stood erupted into a magical bonfire. He flew right through the air and landed in a smoking heap near Seymore. Wincing in pain, the injured warrior-druid grabbed the ranger and pulled him up against the protection of the rock.

There was a sudden rapid succession of twangs, the unmistakable sound of a bowstring, from Samson's right. Turning, he saw Keeneye loose a volley of arrows into the dense forest. He was rewarded with the thump of a falling body.

Having a confirmed area of hostile location, Ultrecht also acted. Reaching into one of the many pockets on the inside of his robe, he withdrew a nugget of sulfur and flung it in the same direction as the arrows. As the small bit of sulfur traveled, Ultrecht grasped the talisman pinned to the front of his robe and quietly spoke the phrases of invocation that would enact a spell of his own, causing the forest to erupt into a massive ball of flame that sent charred bits of flesh in all directions.

Samson drew Libra from its scabbard. The hilt throbbed with the living force of a beating heart. Instantly, the sword's arcane powers came into play. Samson's empathic communication with the sword told him where his enemies were and how they were armed. They were outnumbered, and the great Sword of Balance sensed it. The sword was made for that kind of thing. An imbalance of forces had to be corrected, therefore, Samson felt compelled to charge into the forest alone. Only his intellect and will held the sword's desire in check.

Marlena was more cautious than Norwind and Avery. She entered the camp from the cover of bushes and stayed low to the ground. She worked her way over to where she had seen Seymore and Avery. Under the cover of rock and Samson no more than five feet away, she turned her attention to the injured party members. Both were severely wounded and her healing powers were not nearly enough to save the two of them. She had only the power to partially restore one of them. Her loyalty demanded that she save Seymore, a fellow druid, and a believer in the necessity of neutrality. But, if she could revive Avery enough, he could heal Seymore as well. This was her dilemma and she had only a few precious seconds to make a decision.

Samson breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Marlena safely under cover. But the fight was far from over. Keeneye was out of arrows and was throwing stones at the ragged assailants that were coming out of the forest wielding scimitars. Armegon, with an arrow protruding from his shoulder, had jumped up and was in the open awaiting their charge. Samson was about to leap to his aid when Norwind restrained him.

Armegon waited until enough of the attackers were in clear view of him then he produced a crystal rod and a bit of fur from his shoulder bag. Furiously rubbing them together, he chanted the mystical language of magic. At the last moment, he loosed a bolt of lightning from his hands and watched as it arched from one assailant to another until seventeen of them lay dead or dying on the ground.

Samson could wait no longer. The sword screamed for blood and Samson himself wanted to release some of the anger that had been building in him since Scarlet had died. With a mighty war cry and warning for his compatriots to stay clear, Samson Okmar leaped into the fray.

It was immediately clear that the skills of the first five men to meet Samson were sadly lacking. Their deaths occurred so quickly, they likely never knew what hit them. The next group were more prepared. As they held Okmar’s attention, a mounted warrior with a lance burst from the trees in a deadly charge at his back.

Norwind was about to scream a warning when a warhammer hit the rider hard enough to cave in his chest and splatter flesh and bone. The impact took the horse to the ground and it’s rider ten feet beyond. Norwind watched as the hammer, true to it’s enchantment arced back to the waiting hand of Seymore. With a small wet moan, the big man slumped to the ground.