Chapter 6: Satyr
Chapter 7: Undead
Chapter 8: Dreamer
Chapter 9: Hrayalin
Chapter 10: Discovery
Chapter 6: Satyr
“Now where are we?” Janus asked, “We walked off the main road, and I don’t think this is any forest to be found south of Waterdeep.
It isn’t.
“Wonderful,” Zak said dryly. “Are we lost, dear one? I seem
to remember that tree.”
We’re not lost – just temporarily misplaced...
“Misplaced?” Janus asked, glancing at Kara, whose expression had not
changed for a few hours.
Oh, all right. I’m tired.
“Then we’d stop for the night,” Zak said urbanely, “Though I would
rather we traveled in the darkness.”
“It is getting rather late,” Janus agreed, “Well then what if we find
some shelter? I haven’t slept in the open for years, and I don’t want to
start again.”
Like in that cave?
“I could have sworn that it was not there before,” Zak grinned.
They were now in front of a hill, a barely visible cave in front
of them.
Obviously.
Janus pushed the vines aside, then they walked inside. The cave
was scrupulously clean, and the ceiling not too high to be drafty and not
too low to be oppressive. There were cave paintings.
Janus wandered over to look at one. “What a realistic drawing
of a horse,” he said dryly.
Sorry.
Kara sat down on one of the two benches of a stone table, and let Kiel’aeya
down. Zak glanced at the fireplace – logs neatly in place,
then at the utensils. “I suppose we could let Kara back to the real
world,” he said.
Kara blinked, and looked around. “I won’t bother to ask where
we are,” she said, fumbling in her bag. Then her eyes widened.
“What did you...”
“Do with your bottles?” Janus asked.
She slumped back down on herself, the very picture of misery. Kiel’aeya
clambered onto her lap.
Can you cook? Yes you can.
“Can’t you just create the food?” Janus asked.
No.
“You created the cave,” Zak pointed out.
I modified an already there thing.
Zak reached in a pocket and felt a hand crossbow. A nasty thing,
but Kiel had included it for some reason of her own. “Can you change
the poison to a strong sedative?” he asked.
I can do better than that, if you’re going to use that to hunt stuff.
There’s a bow and arrows at the back of the cave.
“You approve of hunting?” Kara asked suddenly.
Well – everyone has to eat.
“I see,” Kara said unenthusiastically. “I don’t feel the cold
sweat coming on.”
You will be physically well.
“But not mentally?” Janus suggested.
Janus, light the fire, will you?
Janus wandered vaguely over to the fireplace and pointed a finger.
“Burn.” He said.
The logs caught fire. Janus looked with interest at his finger.
“It’s never done that before...” he grinned.
You’re cheating!
Zak grinned at the pouting child, then walked to the back of the cave,
coming back out with a well oiled but ordinary composite bow and a quiver
of arrows. Each arrow had a delicately feathered end, or fletching.
The string was odd – unnaturally firm yet elastic.
“Somehow I wonder if it’s magic,” Janus said, looking at the bow.
It’s not. I think it’s not fair to use magic arrows against
animals.
“I see,” Zak said, “Well, Janus?”
“You can’t be serious,” Janus said, “What if I stay here and guard?
Any vaguely rothe-like creatures should do.”
Don’t shoot the centaurs. Or the unicorns. Or the Minotaur.
They stared at her. “Where are we?” Janus asked at last.
None of your business?
“Considering we are here,” Kara said, apparently trying to rouse herself
from the drug-induced self pity and misery, “I’d say it is."
I don’t know the name. There are very few humans here, though.
“Oh good,” Janus said wryly, “I mean, since us humans usually stay in
relatively safe places, this isn’t a good sign at all.”
“I think Janus had better come with me,” Zak said.
“And see you kill defenseless things?” Janus asked.
You can try killing a boar if you’d like, except I don’t like to
eat that.
“What is a boar?” Zak asked.
“Goddess, give him a picture of a deer, and ask him to find that.” Janus
said.
Oh, very well. Maybe goat.
“Goat?” Janus said in distaste.
Pheasant?
“Maybe,” Janus said, “Now to the next question – who’s cooking?”
“I can do that,” Kara said.
“Now for the next, more important question,” Janus continued, “Can you
cook?”
Zak raised an eyebrow.
“If I couldn’t I wouldn’t have said anything, would I?” Kara said.
“If you want to cook it’s fine by me.”
“Never you mind,” Janus said hastily, “I’d just stand guard now.”
Kiel’aeya grinned.
***
Zak walked through the unfamiliar terrain, that he only knew through
sporadic surface raids when he was a Master at the academy. Day was
drawing to a close, but what little light was left still served, as a blinding
glare to one not used to light. He had used it as an ally many times,
but it still hurt his eyes.
One arrow was already precisely notched as he continued, looking upwards
as often as possible to try and see the bright plumage that Kiel’aeya had
shown him, of a small bird-creature.
Zak had the distinct feeling that there was a trap somewhere.
This sixth sense was common among the trained drow warriors, the best warriors.
Instincts were not repressed but encouraged and honed, to detect the slightest
hint of danger.
There – a trip wire, carefully hidden in the grass. He stepped
carefully over it, and looked around.
His eyes obscured the truth, so he closed them. It was a less-known
technique – for when one sense was lost the others heightened. Dangerous,
maybe, but easier in such circumstances.
Zak walked forward, then stopped again. The noises of the animals
settling down and the nocturnal ones waking were like a roar in his already
sensitive ears, but he opened his eyes and looked.
A very suspicious cover of browned leaves. They couldn’t all have
fallen all in one spot where the tree overhead did not have any withering
leaves at all.
The person who had set up the traps obviously read too many stories.
Zak smirked, and walked carefully around the trap. He wondered vaguely
why there were so many, especially small nooses hung over gnarled tree
roots, which couldn’t possibly harm him.
Zak found the answer several stereotypical traps later. A veritable
swarm of pheasants roosted in several low trees.
Odd. Why did the humans... or whatever, try to protect these birds
in such a way?
Zak shrugged, and raised the bow in a single fluid motion, letting loose
an arrow, then two others with such speed that his hands were a blur.
Three pheasants fell out of the tree, while the rest, squawking, flew
short distances around or down the tree, then settled back in half an hour.
Zak walked with unthreatening steps to the dead ones, and the pheasants,
though some squawked in alarm made no further move.
“Stupid creatures,” Zak murmured.
A large black bird suddenly flew down and pulled at a dead pheasant,
not quite succeeding to get airborne again, but managing to pull off a
sizeable bit of feathers and meat.
Zak blinked at its audacity, and paused. The bird had a impressive
coat of black feathers, which seemed slightly tinted in iridescent green.
His powerful, black beak was slightly hooked, and his beady dark eyes stared
at him with a sardonic intelligence.
The dark elf picked up the three birds, while the black one watched
him with interest.
There was a prickly sensation again at the nape of his neck, and he
whirled around, but someone had already stepped out of the large tree she
was hiding behind.
“Hault, drow,” she said in heavily accented Common, “Lest ye fill ane
airrow ‘twixt yer eyes!”
Zak took a while to decipher her meaning, grateful for Kiel’s translations,
then looked back at the girl again in disbelief. She had deep black
tresses, and large green eyes, her full face topped off with a slightly
upcurled nose and a perfect mouth. Her ears were slightly pointed,
though she looked like no elf Zak had ever seen.
She wore simple leather armor and a short ‘skirt’, a rapier by her side,
and an ivory bow currently leveled in his direction.
From there all familiarity stopped. Waist down, she seemed to
have the hindquarters of a goat – black fur that was oddly uniformly tufted
to a tapering end, such that it looked vaguely like furry, soft scales.
The knees were turned inwards liked a hoofed creature, and ended off in
petite cloven hooves, unshod. She had a deer-like tail that was very
short but tapering also to a point. Peering out of her black hair
was two small horns.
“What are you?” Zak asked in interest.
“Ah ahm aye satyr,” she said shortly, “None of yer tricks, drow.
Whut are ye doin’ in mah forest?”
“I did not know this forest had an owner,” Zak said mildly.
“The forest belongs t’ all its creechurrs.” The satyr said shortly.
“Including all the traps?” Zak inquired.
The satyr’s eyes darkened. “The traps were put by the gamekippers.”
“So you also came to poach?” Zak asked, “Then why are you so upset about
me getting here first?”
“Yer drow.” The satyr said, “Yer evil kin ain’t gonna overrun mah forest.”
“I have no intention of returning to the Underdark,” Zak retorted, “And
as for the evil kin thing, you’re perfectly right, but they’re not interested
in the surface, either.”
“Yer gonna prove yit.” The satyr hadn’t lowered her bow one bit.
“Very well,” Zak sighed. He suddenly leaped away to the side,
and the satyr, startled, loosed her arrow, which embedded itself in the
tree. She abandoned her bow and drew her rapier when she realized he was
too close.
“On guard!” Zak grinned, launching a darting, offensive sequence, dropping
the birds. The satyr did her best to parry, but was not good enough
to have time to counter-attack.
Zak hit her hand hard with the flat blade of a sword, temporarily numbing
her fingers, then twisted and flicked the rapier out of her hand, catching
it neatly. He was rather proud of that.
The satyr glared at him.
“Pretty good,” he said, pointing his sword at her.
“Yer gonna kill me now, drow?” she asked, still retaining her contempt.
“Do you want me to?” Zak grinned.
Take her back to the camp?
“I have further instructions,” Zak continued, “You can follow me back
to my friends...”
“Ah’d rather die!” the satyr burst out.
“Really?” Zak smiled again.
The satyr appeared to reconsider. “No.”
Then the large bird attacked in a tearing of talons and a furious pecking
that caused Zak to retreat, but he kept his composure and brought up his
sword, smashing the bird away. It fell dazed on the ground, but the
satyr had taken advantage of the interruption to aim a punch at him, which
connected.
He staggered back, and she swung again, but this time he caught her
hand, his other pointing the sword again at her throat. “My goddess
Kiel’aeya would like to speak to you,” he said, “Do call off your bird
where I can see it, and we’d go back with minimum fuss, shall we?”
Zak managed to pick up the pheasants without getting attacked again,
and walked his reluctant captive back to camp, mildly pointing out the
traps.
***
The satyr Raven blinked as she looked on Kiel’aeya then kneeled down.
The goddess smiled, and darted forward, solemnly pulling down the satyr’s
head and planting a kiss on her forehead. Raven is the fourth.
***
Chapter 7: Undead
"Ah’m nae sure where we are," Raven said. The large bird on her shoulder
clicked its beak. The forest was getting more and more dense, and they
walked in comparative dark.
"Somehow I am sure Kiel is not going to tell us," Zaknafein said dryly.
Yes.
"Who are we going to pick up here?" Janus asked, "A mushroom?"
You’d find out.
"Sure we are," Kara said caustically, "I mean, we’re in the middle of
a place that seems crawling with leeches whenever we stop for more than
ten minutes."
The person we meet will not have any fear of them.
"Only undead won’t fear leeches... oh no." Janus said, in disbelief.
Yes.
"Undead can believe?" Kara said, "They’re pretty soulless, aren’t they?"
Technically. You do not actually require a soul to believe, for only
those who ask themselves if they have souls have souls.
"How philosophical," Kara said, voice dripping sarcasm, "I never ask
myself that question."
"Kara, yis there sumthin’ wrong wit’ ye?" Raven asked.
"No," Kara said in exasperation, "Is criticism something wrong?"
What is the name of the bird?
"Changing the subject?" Kara asked.
"Kara." Zak simply said.
"What, drow?" Kara asked, "You’re going to cut off my head now that
I criticize someone?"
Zak did not deign to answer, and the air suddenly seemed much colder.
"The bird’s Dayle." Raven said.
"Dale?" Janus asked.
"That’s whut Ah said," Raven tried to alleviate the tension.
Dale is a nice name.
"Thank ye," Raven smiled. Raven was holding Kiel’aeya, who grinned at
Dale. The large raven looked down at her.
I like ravens.
"Carrion feeders," Kara said, shooting the bird a look of disgust.
Raven returned the look steadily. "If yer in pain thru yer drug, don’t
tek yit out on us."
Kara sniffed disdainfully, and stomped on.
"Got out of the wrong side of bed today, I’d think," Janus said mildly
to her back.
Kara stiffened, then continued imperiously.
What is wrong with her?
"The drug," Zak said, "Craving for it. Or I hope so."
"Kin we help?" Raven asked.
"She’s got to do it herself," Zak said harshly. "She would not want
any help. She does not warrant any help."
That’s unworthy of you, Zaknafein.
Zak glanced at Kiel. "I don’t regret it."
"T’ speek abut this undead," Raven said, "Is it vampire?"
Raven, you don’t like conflicts?
"Non," Raven said simply, "Ah’m aye pacifist."
"What’s the opposite of that?" Janus asked.
Antagonist?
"Probably me, then," Zak smiled mirthlessly.
"Are you going to go into a brooding session?" Janus asked, "Because
if you are, I think I’d wait here for the leeches."
"Brooding session?" Raven asked.
"When you keep thinking about your regrets," Zak said, "Sorry to disappoint
the leeches, Janus, but I don’t have them. I don’t do things I regret –
and everything turns out for the best, doesn’t it?"
"Optimistic, Zak?" Janus asked in feigned astonishment, "This is so
unlike you."
Not true, Janus.
"Don’t side with him," Janus said.
"Are we going in there?" Kara said suddenly, loudly.
They paused, and looked forward. What had seemed like a displacement
of ground that formed a odd cliff turned out to be a large structure that
looked like the front of a temple, carved out of the rock.
There were several carvings on the rock which were not intrinsically
representing good nor were they evil. They were just beautiful. There were
very lifelike carvings of many creatures, and they recognized a satyr,
and also a unicorn. There was a Hralwayin next to the unicorn, but it was
prancing playfully. A pack of wolves raced over the large entrance.
"Nature lover, is he?" Kara asked, "How unlike an undead."
"I was expecting a bit of black, maybe a few skulls, a few bats..."
Janus agreed.
The two of you read too many books.
"There’s nothing much else I can do," Kara said. "So, do we go in, face
this undead person and persuade him to come along, or what?"
We might as well.
"We have a choice, Kiel?" Kara asked, "We can turn away now?"
No, actually.
"Then say so," Kara said.
Zak glared at Kara.
"What now, drow?" Kara sneered, "You don’t like my face?"
"Not your face," Zak shrugged, "Your attitude. I am sure you do not
like mine either, so spare me the stereotypical remarks. As Raven said,
do not take it out on us."
"You have a short fuse, drow?" Kara continued, "Am I shorting it?"
"You’re coming close to it," Zak said mildly. "But unlike you, I can
control my temper. Lead on, Kiel."
Kiel’aeya raised her face to his, and nodded gratefully.
"Now that it’s sorted," Janus said, "Let’s go in, shall we? Kiel, are
there any traps like pits of spikes and such?"
No.
"Any hidden passages?" Janus asked.
No.
"How boring," Janus said, with a grin.
***
Inside was (to Zak, at least) a comfortable darkness, but Kiel made
a ball of light which floated above Raven’s head. Dale tried pecking at
it, but it floated out of his way reproachfully, and Kiel grinned.
There weren’t any mazes, to Janus’ disappointment. The tunnels were
straight and branched off clearly, mostly to rooms empty even of their
furniture, with only a few lighter rectangles on the wall to show where
tapestries or pictures had hung.
They continued onwards indeterminately, once passing a large chamber
than looked like it were the kitchens, an ancient stove with charred wood
still falling to pieces under it.
The end of the wide passageway, flanked by two stumps of burned-out
torches, was an arch, inside of which was a stairway.
Kiel’aeya motioned for them to go up, and Raven led the way as she held
the goddess firmly, her cloven hooves tapping their way up the cool stone.
Janus gasped as he looked on the mosaics. Crafted of identically proportioned
squares of semi-precious stones, the strange figures detailed all the ‘mythical’
creatures that probably existed. The mosaics covered both walls of the
spiraling staircase, and as again, there seemed to have been no preferences
in the works. Each creature had a male and a female.
Zak wordlessly pointed out a dark elf, gleaming sword held low, a priestess
standing behind him, right hand outstretched as if to cast a spell. The
elf had a devil-may-care grin on his handsome face, while the priestess
too smiled, a genuine smile of pure enjoyment.
"They’re terribly out-dated," Zak said dryly.
"I would say so," Janus breathed, "I wonder how much all this is worth?"
"Lots?" Kara suggested. She seemed to have forgotten to sulk as her
eyes ran over the artwork. "This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever
seen."
"In fact," Janus said slowly, "It doesn’t look like Faerun, or any of
the continents I do know."
"Faerun?" Raven asked in interest, "Yer all from dere?"
They blinked. "This isn’t Faerun?" Kara asked finally.
"Nae," Raven said, "’Tis Terra Firma."
Zak looked at her blankly, as did Kara.
"The Unreal," Janus said slowly, "A fine tale!"
It’s true.
"What is this?" Zak asked.
"It’s supposedly an old wives’ tale," Janus said, "Even the wizards
have forgotten it. They say it’s impossible to get here even by magic,
and though there’s a few Underdark tunnels up here, one is heavily trapped,
and the other full of drow."
"A good deterrent," Zak said dryly.
"True," Janus said, "The Unreal is supposedly the place where most of
the mythical creatures are, like the unicorns. The good dark elves. You
know... mythical."
"And therefore unreal?" Kara inquired, "But you said that one tunnel
had drow..."
"I didn’t say something else," Janus said, "The drow are good ones,
but a drow’s a drow, and..."
"You’re perhaps the most prejudiced person I’ve ever met," Zak said
mildly.
"So I am," Janus agreed, "But so’s the average human."
"An’ here we think Faerun’s the likely story," Raven smiled. She was
very beautiful when she smiled, as her cheeks dimpled and her face seemed
to light up. Dale let out a hoarse chuckle.
"Really?" Kara asked.
"Yep," Raven said, "Faerun – overrun wit’ humans. A likely tale!"
"It’s true," Zak smiled. "But hasn’t anyone come here before?"
"They usually die," Raven said, "Or they dun wanta leave. Wit’ the whirlpools
an’ the reefs ‘tis impossible to boat here, an’ wit’ the strong magical
spills ‘tis impossible to ‘port here in one piece."
That is not exactly true.
"I keep forgetting," Zak said dryly.
The steps opened out into a large hall, then as if as an afterthought
continued upwards.
They stepped inside the hall. Heavy curtains covered the windows, such
that the room was shrouded in darkness. There was a throne at the end,
and several rows of benches in front of it, that outlined a wide walkway.
Someone had moved a plain wood table into the center of the walkway, and
a chair.
There was a set of chess on the table, and a man sat on the chair, apparently
playing chess with himself. A cigar was absently being rolled in one hand,
the pleasant smoke filling the room with its scent.
The man rested his head on the other hand as he contemplated the board,
not even noticing their entrance. He had a full head of black hair, which
was tied up in a rough ponytail. A day’s stubble was on his chin, and along
with his white shirt with a collar that was slightly askew, and a black
robe that was randomly draped on his shoulder, he gave the impression that
he was a well-to-do, good-for-nothing son of some nobleman.
Except for his eyes. They were a uniform, faintly glowing red.
Kiel’aeya struggled until Raven let her down, then she walked up to
the man. As she neared the table, she seemed to be walking up on some invisible
ramp, until she reached the level of the tabletop, where she sat down,
and picked up a white castle. She moved it a few squares to the left.
The man stared at the castle, then at Kiel’aeya, but without surprise.
"Checkmate," he said wearily, "I suppose I’d be going with you then, goddess."
Kiel’aeya grinned, and walked onto the table, then kissed his forehead.
***
Chapter 8: Dreamer
The fifth and last disciple turned his head to them as if noticing
them for the first time, and he studied them in interest.
"You’re not from Karielanran, are you?" he asked, looking straight at
Zaknafein.
Zak looked at him blankly. "Where? I am... was from Menzoberranzan."
"One of the Spider Queen’s cities," the man said, absently rolling his
cigar in his fingers. "I thought as much. Those from Karielanran do not
come to this surface."
"’Tis why Ah attacked ‘im when Ah furst saw ‘im at Dakar’s ‘reserve’."
Raven grinned at Zak. "Unfortunately, that yis."
"I didn’t hurt you," Zak pointed out.
"Ye hurt me pride, elf," Raven said. "Ah was conseedared aye master
of the blades among me people."
Zaknafein bowed with dignity towards Raven. "I see. My apologies, Raven,
for dismantling your illusions that you could best everyone when you get
a high title."
Raven flushed, then started to chuckle. "How deflating."
The new one’s name is Azrael.
Janus looked sharply at the man, who was still leaning his head against
his hand on the table, unconcerned. "Azrael? Death himself?"
The man turned his red gaze on Janus. "Thankfully, no," he said dryly.
"I can’t remember my real name, and this one serves me as well as the first."
He is a Dreamer.
"Undead can daydream?" Kara asked.
"Was a Dreamer," Azrael corrected. "A Dreamer does not mean daydreaming.
Would you like me to tell you a long story now?"
You never told me.
"Kiel is not happy that she cannot see my thoughts," Azrael smiled mirthlessly.
He looked like he never had. "Undead minds are not of this plane and would
never be."
Shut up and tell.
Kiel’aeya ran down the same invisible steps until she came back to Raven,
and the satyr picked her up, Dale clicking its beak, then taking off to
fly away.
"Very well, my goddess," Azrael said. "You must all have noticed by
now that all species are...different, and all have their own gifts. The
dwarves are hardheaded, the satyrs..." Raven smiled, "can run as fast has
horses, the elves are either too bloody wise for their own good or too
good at weapons for their own good." It was Zak’s turn to smile, and finger
his swords.
"And humans seem to be the most pathetic ones," Kara said acidly. "Is
that your point?"
Azrael glanced at her, and she looked away. "Humans have a gift, and
that is to dream, and remember the dreams. Humans are the only ones to
have all the types of dreams, including the most important ones – the prophetic
dreams."
"Like when I see a table and chair in some place where I am and I remember
vaguely seeing it before and then remember it was in a dream?" Janus asked.
"Precisely," Azrael said.
"Pretty useless," Janus shrugged, "I only remember it when I am already
there, and it’s always inconsequential."
"Ah, because you are not talented. All humans have this...and the ‘talented’
ones have the True dreams, those of the future. Some have a narrow scope
and some a wide one. Some can only see their own future, and some can see
the future of all. The last ones, of course, are the most powerful of all."
Azrael said.
"In what way powerful?" Zak asked, "I mean, you see the future, you
can’t change it."
Azrael glanced at the elf as if reproaching him for interrupting. "A
True dreamer can see the possibilities. There is no such thing as a definite
destiny, dark elf, but there is such a thing as chance. You can ‘nudge’
the chance. For example, in our heyday we could have mapped out all the
futures of the entire drow race, and pushed all the ‘switches’ necessary
to send all of you to your destruction, in a few years at most."
"Sounds like a good thing to me," Zak said complacently.
"You hate your own race," Azrael stated, "How... interesting. But nonetheless,
the True dreamers collected together from the other humans. This is the
main but secret reason why the elves did not kill all of us when us humans
came to take the Realm as our own... they feared this power. They knew,
as most of us did not in those days that if we so wanted, we could push
all of them to their utter destruction. All creatures dream, but humans
are the only ones who can make their dreams live."
"There were only a hundred or so True dreamers in those days, with only
seven of them with the highest power. We collected in the Unreal to watch
over the world," Azrael said. Then he smiled the same mirthless smile.
"Or at least, that is the accepted version. We collected together to bicker
for a while, then, as most humans enjoy doing – we created the Books, where
we mapped out the history of all the races. The Books would have filled
even the shelves of the Candlekeep library. This was warning for the races
not to trifle with us pathetic, short-lived humans."
"A burning fuse to a cannon held in check," Janus said, "Don’t we all
love threatening others?"
"It has always been our way," Azrael said, "To get the greatest weapons
and just hold them sweetly in check against the world. To do such a thing
is usually asking for trouble."
"Some year, a force, elven, no doubt, somehow got hold of one of the
Shards of power, and shut up the Unreal from the outside world and erased
all its memories from the outside. Some angel-like creature or such wrenched
away the shard before it would continue and destroy the True dreamers themselves
– the other humans have dreams like Janus has said, totally harmless and
useless – and threw it away into a plane."
"Crenshinibon," Zak murmured. He remembered something about that – it
had been one of the thoughts screaming out of that accursed cleric’s mind.
"Caused quite a bit of trouble near the Spine of the World," Kara said,
"It’s supposedly in the Underdark now."
"It is," Azrael said, "In the hands of one most capable of handling
it. Anyway, alone here the True dreamers flourished, and took leaders.
Soon they spread enough to become three separate factions."
"Which started t’ war wit’ each other," Raven said. "Me kin took nae
sides."
"As did most of the creatures," Azrael agreed. "However, with each side
having a few powerful True dreamers, the war continued on interminably
until a few hundred years when a hundred or so followers of the good drow
goddess came along through the Underdark caverns. They were surprised to
see the Unreal, but my faction took them in and healed the wounds that
they had suffered from some war. Apparently they had fled here."
"They allied themselves to our faction, and we helped them to build
Karielanran." Azrael said, "With them we eliminated the other two factions."
Hurry up.
"Very well," Azrael said sourly, "Taking heavy losses, we gathered what
few hundred we had left and built this place."
"It seems too small... somehow," Kara said.
"This is a fraction of what was left," Azrael said severely, "The drow
were good, but somehow there was a taint of Lloth in them. A small war
broke out within themselves, and the Lloth-worshippers were driven away.
We had aided the ‘good’ ones, but took further losses. Most of the unfinished
rooms were walled off until there were only enough left for us. This was
after the elven wars."
"How many?" Janus asked morbidly.
Azrael looked at him. "Two hundred."
"I am sorry to say this," Zak said dryly, "But humans breed incredibly
quickly."
"That is so," Azrael said, "Enough was left and the walls could always
have been torn down."
"Let me guess," Kara said, "Your faction schismed."
"Human nature," Azrael said, "I have said enough."
You have not.
"Oh, very well," Azrael said wearily, "We are led always by queens."
"Good," Kara said.
Azrael glanced at her. "One more thing I had not told you – True dreamers
can remember their dreams. Most humans cannot – and so even those who have
the Wide dreams cannot remember them and therefore are useless. However,
we remember all our dreams – as if they were real."
"Even the nightmares?" Janus swallowed, "I had a horrible childhood
one which I remember still, though only the bit where some malevolent black
thing was chasing me."
"Even they," Azrael said, "As sharp as though they really happened.
Such a thing drove many insane, mostly men. Women seem to be able to take
it better than us."
"Thank you," Kara grinned.
"And so the women are usually the most powerful ones," Azrael said,
"The Queen I served was the best the Unreal had seen for a long time."
Served... huh.
"What we schismed over I cannot remember already, and do not care,"
Azrael said, blithely ignoring Kiel. "I remember that my father, in desperation
at a ‘sneak’ attack at our own front door, delved deep into the dark arts.
This is one more thing that True dreamers can do if they can read their
own futures – make it so that they can gain in powers. That they can touch
the forbidden magics, for you need no inborn power to touch the cursed
things. He turned into a red-eyed undead, infecting all he touched into
the same undead."
Zaknafein’s hands suddenly seemed to be holding both sword hilts casually.
He is safe.
"Thank you, goddess," Azrael sighed, "I was the first he touched. I
wasn’t without so little powers myself..."
Huh!
"Thank you, goddess," Azrael said, "Very well, I would be modest to
say I was the better than my father. My dreams were Wide and long and comprehensible.
But when you are an undead, you cannot sleep, and thus you lose your dreams."
His faint smile abruptly faded. "To lose so much... it would be safe
to say I went mad, if only for a while. I killed him as much as he could
be killed, boxed the remains up with mithril and blessed metal that I,
tainted with the undead auras, could not touch but had to command. He is
trapped still."
"The rest were released from their taint, but not I, for in killing
him it had stayed in me." Azrael said, "The rest deserted these buildings,
for they feared me. They feared my touch. They called me Azrael even though
I had more or less saved them. I no longer had my gift and therefore I
was no longer of them."
"Kiel’aeya touched you," Zak said uncertainly.
He only infects if he wants to. And even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t
be able to affect me. Don’t you have faith?
"Apologies," Zak said smoothly.
"So I stayed," Azrael said simply, "I stay guarding my father’s tomb.
I can hear him sometimes – dry scratchings on the lid, scratching, scratching,
scratching, begging..." his voice trailed off, and he watched the chessboard.
Then he looked up abruptly. "Gods, you must think I’m getting maudlin.
Old as I am..." he gave a hollow laugh. "Well Kiel’aeya, I follow you.
Where to?"
We will stay here. It is here that the healings will begin. The Unreal
is linked to Faerun through the Underdark.
"And you would heal this place?" Azrael raised an eyebrow, "The Unreal,
goddess, was not fouled by battles, and never would again, for as the monsters
grew in number us humans died out slowly."
The others will come. You are thought to be legend now, Azrael. The
Unreal needs no healing, which is why we will stay here to rest.
"Then we’d do the Underdark?" Zak asked sarcastically.
The Underdark... yes. For now, sleep well. No doubt Azrael still
knows where the bedrooms are.
"They are mostly empty," Azrael said, rising from the table, "But they
may have to do. Follow me. And whilst they sleep, goddess, would you agree
to one more round of chess?"
Azrael thinks he’s the world’s greatest in chess.
"Second to you, goddess," Azrael bowed, "But I would like to play again.
I do regret the stakes of before, however, but they are of poor advantage
of you, are they not? I doubt I have still a soul."
Until you are truly dead you will have a soul.
"How comforting," Azrael said in the same neutral tone.
One more question – where are the Books now?
"The drow burned them," Azrael said calmly, "When they came. Some advance
guard or something – got into here, seemed to come especially for the Books.
Burned... the treasures of the True dreamers – lifetimes of work!"
He threw back his head suddenly, and started to laugh a high pitched,
near-hysterical laughter that had the group warily reaching for their weapons.
Kiel’aeya looked speculatively at Azrael. It seems like there’s going
to be a lot of work with this one.
***
Someone walks to the chamber whose doors are set with warning sigils
and signs, and pushes it open. The doors glide open soundlessly.
Someone walks into the room. Inside it is blank except for a warding
circle, in the center a single metal coffin. The person walks as close
as possible to the warding circle, as the coffin starts to glow dully,
a sickly red. The warding blurs, and the person steps in, laying a hand
hesitatingly on the coffin.
The red abruptly sucks into the hand, and the person starts to glow.
***
Chapter 9: Hrayalin
"Yer early," a voice said sleepily behind him. Zak whirled, regaining
his balance even as his swords flashed into his hands.
Raven grinned at him, and held out her hands to the sides. "Hey," she
smiled.
"Do not try sneaking up on me," Zak said dryly, "You are lucky I do
not use the hand crossbow."
"Ah’d say so," Raven shrugged.
"Where’s Dale?" Zak asked, out of an effort towards conciliatory chatter.
"Wit’ Kiel," Raven said, "He likes her."
Zak smiled. "If we do not watch it, we’d be wearing a symbol of a raven
on our clothing."
"Ah like ravens," Raven grinned, "Nat’rally." Her smile faded. "On aye
more see-rious note, whut are ye doin’ up so early?"
Zak looked at her in mock surprise. "It’s early?"
"’Tis aboot six or so the last Ah checked," Raven said. "Ah woke up
to get aye drink, an’ the furst thing Ah see is that ye’ve woken up alreedy.
Bad manners, ye know."
"What did I do this time?" Zak asked. For the purpose of heat or company,
they shared a large empty bedroom, Azrael having directed them towards
what few fabrics were left, or some stores of ancient hay.
"Ye woke up without tellin’ me," Raven said firmly, "Or anyone. Everyone’s
lookin’ for ye. Ye can cover yer tracks well. T’ tell ye the truth, Ah
don’t think anyone slept well last night. Kara had been a-walking around
or tossin’ or such, and so has Janus. The air’s bloody stiflin’."
"What with the mosquitoes," Zak said with a sigh. "I hate the creatures."
"Yeh," Raven agreed, "Well now, furst disciple, whut are ye doin’ in
this abandoned tunnel?"
Zak looked around innocently. "Most of the tunnels are bricked up,"
he said, "I was just going to see why this one was not."
"Then Ah’d go wit’ ye," Raven said. Zak raised an eyebrow at her. "An’
ye don’t go around givin’ me that look, Zak."
"Yes ma’am," Zak said dryly, and walked on.
The tunnel they were in was just as wide as the others, with several
stumps of torches along the walls, and several paintings on the wall, though
the paint had long faded. The tunnel was on the first floor, not far away
from their rooms, though partly concealed in the back of the kitchen-like
place. Zak had already encountered several other, though collapsed tunnels.
The small lantern that Raven had found had a dim light, and Zak noted
that the lantern seemed to be made of some silvery material, set with many
gems in a concentric pattern.
"Worth aye fortune," Raven said, as if reading his thoughts. Her cloven
hooves beat out a steady staccato on the hard ground. "Found it in one
o’ the rooms."
Rooms opened out on the side of the tunnels. One looked like it had
been used for drinking or washing, for there was an abandoned, large basin
and what looked like a small fountain, the mouth a shape of that of a panther.
Another had a more sinister though practical purpose – large and wide,
bars stretched across its width near the ends in neat rows, with hooks
on, probably for hanging meat. An abattoir? There was also a small fountain,
the mouth in the shape of that of a lion’s.
"We must be getting close to where they kept their livestock," Zak said,
sounding vaguely disappointed. No wonder this part hadn’t been blocked
– but it was hardly interesting, at least for him. Raven seemed to be trying
to fit everything in at once.
"Ah’d never thought Ah’d be able t’ explore the insides of Var Maren,"
she said.
"That is the fifth time," Zak said dryly.
"Fifth time what?" Raven asked absently.
"You’ve said that," Zak said, "I wonder why Azrael did not tell us the
name?"
"He probably forgot," Raven said, "Var Maren has fallen many centuries,
an’ he’s the only guardian fur that many. He probably forgot about dis
place too."
As they walked on, the light became brighter from the end of the tunnels,
and Raven soon doused the light of her lantern.
Then there was the unmistakable scent of a living creature. Or its waste,
at least.
***
"Why are you associating with dark symbols, Kiel?" Azrael asked, as
he moved a knight.
Kiel grinned at him as she moved a bishop.
Everyone has a dark side. I am merely translating mine into a fondness
for the ‘dark symbols’, as you say.
"Ravens, carrion feeders," Azrael said.
It’s their life. If there weren’t any carrion feeders there’d be so
many dead bodies and so many flies you’d have to wear a mask. In death,
there would be rebirth.
"A wh... a lady of pleasure," he continued, rolling what looked like
the same cigar around in his fingers, while he considered the board.
Kara is no longer that, and the drug is losing its hold. I am proud
of her.
"Me," Azrael smiled as he casually moved his queen.
You move very slowly. As for yourself, you have a good heart. You
have a soul, and you believe.
"Thank you, Kiel," Azrael said, frowning as she moved her pawn. "That
seems an unlikely move."
I have my reasons.
"And the last one," Azrael mused as though he had not heard, "The drow."
Zaknafein... is an intriguing person. I like him, though I can’t
say he has a good heart. He has a large one, but it’s mostly his and not
for any kind of honor or something. He has a flexible conscience in many
matters, but where it’s inflexible, he believes that everyone should do
the same thing as well. He’s a great influence on people though he doesn’t
exactly know it.
"You sound rather defensive, Kiel," Azrael said.
He is strong. Perhaps stronger than all of you in spirit. That’s
why he’s the first one. Azrael, you should know better than prejudice.
"Don’t get me wrong," Azrael commented, moving his knight again, "I
don’t mind drow. So long as they don’t start fighting with me."
How practical.
"Everyone has to be, Kiel," he said calmly, watching her like a snake
as she carefully leant over and picked up her other bishop, which seemed
to have been rusting in the corner of the board. "Damn."
And I take your castle.
***
They walked around a sharp corner, fastidiously threading their way
through hay both fresh and stale, and the waste of some large creature.
Larger than a donkey, at least.
Then they came into an open, mountainous, rocky terrain, face to face
with a herd of horses. It was hard to say which looked more astonished.
When they looked closer, however, they could see that they weren’t exactly
horses. The hooves seemed to be some combination of cloven hooves and paws
that seemed to give them an almost unnaturally firm grim on the treacherous
ground. The herd, about forty or so strong, watched them, from the largest
stallion to the smallest foal, with an unwavering, unnerving intensity,
slightly tufted ears twitching forward. Their tails and manes were long,
and had never been touched by any
Then a stallion bared his teeth, and Zak saw pointed incisors, which
changed to the molars of a herbivore. They all had very visible muscles
under the glossy coats, literally radiating a suppressed power, and Zak
began weighing his chances of what would happen if the large ones decided
to charge.
"What are these?" Zak said softly to Raven.
"Hrayalin," Raven replied just as softly, "The Devil’s steed. Never
heard o’ ‘em dis far north. Never seen ‘em before – they’re nae common."
"Wonderful," Zak said dryly, "What if we retreat?" What would it feel
like to ride one?
"They run faster than satyr," Raven said, "And Ah can surely run faster
than ye."
Zak’s next question, whether they were aggressive, was answered, when
a large black stallion with not a white hair on his huge body, shouldered
its way through the ranks of both mares and stallions, and faced them,
large plate-sized feet firmly planted, towering over both Zak and Raven.
***
They’ve managed to get themselves in trouble.
Kiel looked rather annoyed. She’d sent Dale out since the bird wanted
to fly, and she’d been missing him.
"How?" Azrael asked, his eyes still fixed on the board, chewing his
lip slightly.
They’ve met a whole lot of horse-like creatures.
Azrael’s head shot up to look at hers. "Oh, no. Can you take me there
now?"
Sure. Just get out of your chair and walk straight. And hold me.
I can only take us somewhere in the tunnels.
"Good enough," Azrael said grimly, "You had better hurry – the Hrayalin
don’t like strangers."
You breed these things?
"I admire and envy their wild natures," Azrael shrugged, "They look
so free, I thought that if I left out a bit of hay and such for them everyday,
they’d get used to me so I can get close enough to admire their beauty."
Big words, Azrael.
"You’d understand when you see them, Kiel."
***
Zak noted that when the stallion pawed the ground, there were thin furrows
from claws, and deeper, wider ones from hooves that resembled Raven’s vaguely.
The entire thing was covered in a mass of silky long horsehair, or ‘feathers’
as some called them, like that of a Shire horse, that it thankfully could
not be seen.
The bright morning sun was beginning to stab at his eyes. Footsteps
behind him, but he did not move, instead, Raven turned, and made a relieved
sound. The eyes of the Hrayalin turned to the sound, and they relaxed visibly.
Zak straightened from his defensive stance and lowered his swords when
he saw Kiel sitting in Azrael’s arms.
"Your pets, Azrael?" he asked.
That has to be the biggest horse I’ve ever seen.
"My friends," Azrael corrected. "And they are not horses, but Hrayalin."
He turned to look at the stallion that had
Zak snorted, but otherwise kept his peace.
The creature looked up at Azrael, then to Zak’s astonishment, spoke,
in a slightly rasping tone but still intelligible.
Raven stepped forward and inclined her head. "We’re sorry, then."
Another stallion, an old and grizzled looking one with a mottled coat,
hobbled with an awkward step forward. "Accepted," he said, "It has been
a long time since I have seen one of your kind, satyr." He turned his head
to look at Zak. "And longer still since I have seen a drow."
A muttering stirred up the rest of the herd, but they began to drift
away except for the two stallions.
"The creatures have some sort of rank that I don’t understand," Azrael
said, "But I do know they all have odd names, supposedly given to them
from birth. The odd thing is that each foal knows its name even in the
womb, and the first thing it does is to say it."
The undead smiled and pointed at the large black stallion. "His name
is Horus."
The black creature inclined its head slightly.
Azrael smiled one of his rare, genuine smiles, then looked to the older
Hrayalin. "Now that one is a living legend."
"My blushes, Azrael," the old one said, though it looked pleased, "No
need to tease a cripple well past its prime."
"His name is Amen-Ra," Azrael said, "Lord of the dawn, eh?"
"The dawn does not need a lord," Amen-Ra said, "And though I’ve brought
together a mighty herd from scratch and fought many battles, I am not a
legend."
Horus nudged Amen-Ra in affection. "Ah, father, but you are also the
longest lived."
"No legend does that make," Amen-Ra said dryly, "Why, Azrael has lived
longer than I. I was a foal when he was already..."
"Cursed?" Azrael shrugged.
Azrael!
Both Hrayalin turned their heads to Kiel in astonishment. "A goddess?
Here?" Horus said, disbelieving.
Yes. Why?
Amen-Ra chuckled. "The last wonder that I see."
"Don’t speak nonsense, old horse," Azrael said, "You have a long life
yet."
Amen-Ra looked at him. "Perhaps. Perhaps not." With that, the Hrayalin
hobbled off on three good legs to the herd, which was moving vaguely down.
Horus nodded to them one more time, gave Zak an odd glance, then trotted
off after his sire.
***
Chapter 10: Discovery
"Is anyone goin’ tae come?" Raven inquired, as they threaded their
way back to the other rooms.
Centaurs will come soon.
"Centaurs?" Azrael repeated, "Stuck up star seers."
Azrael!
"Any humans?" Zak asked.
Azrael is here.
"I take that as a no," Azrael said, his voice with slight overtones
of satisfaction.
Raven shrugged noncommittally, then looked down critically as she was
passing a large, empty cupboard with many shelves, wiping something delicately
off her hooves and looking at the lather. "Soap?"
Azrael froze, and looked sharply at her, then at the cupboard, then
at her again.
"What’s behind that thing, Azrael?" Zak asked.
Azrael visibly recovered his composure. "Nothing."
You’re not telling the truth.
"Oh, all right," Azrael said, then looked at Zak. "You can take your
hands off your sword. How’d you know there’s something behind this?"
"It has to be hiding something," Zak said dryly, "Because it must be
the only piece of wooden furniture I’ve seen. And it looks about as old
as you are, which means it must have been built after this Val Maren was
vacated, or just before."
"Am I that obvious?" Azrael asked.
Yes.
"Behind the cupboard is the entrance to my father’s tomb," Azrael said
grimly, "But it looks like a wall."
"Why didn’t ye leave the wall? The cupboard sort o’ lets ev’ryone know
something’s there." Raven pointed out.
"So does new mortar and bricks along a smooth rock wall," Azrael said
dryly. "Someone put soap here to be able to move the thing easily, and
it looks like soap from one of your supplies."
Raven and Zak looked at each other in astonishment. "You mean one of
us has been here?" Zak asked slowly. "How did he know?"
Azrael shrugged, and looked down at Kiel, but the goddess had a mask-like
expression of sad resignation on her face. "You’re not telling?"
No.
"We could see what’s behind here," Zak said, "Is it a danger?"
"To your soul," Azrael said, "After that, a danger mostly first to myself."
"We tek aye look, then." Raven said firmly.
Azrael set Kiel down, then the three of them pushed the cupboard to
the side. It slid more or less easily on the soap.
Azrael let out a startled gasp when he saw that most of the bricks had
been shattered and strewn inside the chamber, which was more like an extended
tunnel that ended in doors set with all sorts of malevolent symbols.
Kiel walked in, and glanced at the door, then at Azrael.
"Very well," he said, and walked up to it, murmuring some words. The
doors swung open to show yet another chamber, this one like a cube, a warding
circle around a metal coffin.
Azrael began to circle the place critically, but the smooth stone showed
no sign of footprints. When he straightened and glanced at the coffin,
he looked very puzzled.
Zaknafein and Raven froze, hands going to their weapons, when something
started clawing at the lid of the coffin. A dull scratching that set your
teeth on edge, like a chalk drawn roughly and sharply over a chalkboard.
Azrael looked at them, then made a sharp motion for them to leave, then
they left silently, and he closed the doors behind them.
"Nothing’s wrong," he said, sounding puzzled.
"I do not understand," Zak said, "He broke in just for the fun of it?
I can see his heat trail. This room’s rather warm somehow..."
"The coffin sometimes lets out some kind of heat," Azrael murmured.
"Which has preserves it relatively well," Zak continued, "The trail
leads right to the door and seems to go through, but once inside the room
there aren’t any."
"Not surprising," Azrael said, "If my father had been waiting for the
person, he would have been able to wipe out the heat-marks or something."
"So whut do we do?" Raven asked, as they pushed the cupboard back in
place and Azrael picked up Kiel.
"There’s nothing much we can do," Azrael said glumly.
Azrael and I will continue our game.
Kiel looked up at them with a weary smile.
"Actually, there is," Zak said, "It could be any one of us, so I suggest
that we all go in pairs. Janus can pair with..."
"Kara," Raven said quickly. Zak gave her a curious look. "Ah’d like
t’ see more o’ yer swords, drow."
Kiel chuckled, and Raven looked at the goddess with a look of warning.
"Don’t spoil the fun, Kiel," Azrael said, then started to walk back
to the large rooms.
"What fun?" Zak demanded, but Raven looked away.
"Let’s go back t’ the Hrayalin," she said, "An’ ye’d be teachin’ me
there."
"I did not say anything about that," Zak said dryly.
Raven looked at him with a seraphic grin on her face. "Ah’m sayin’ yit
now."
***
Kara?
Kara looked up from where she had been studying a perfect statue of
a cockatrice. "Kiel? Where are you?"
I’m playing chess with Azrael. Kara, you have to find Janus and stay
with him. Raven and Zak are staying together. I’ve already told Janus.
"Why, Kiel?" Kara touched the sharp beak of the cockatrice regretfully.
Something’s happened. If you’d like, drag him to see the statues
with you – some people should turn up soon.
"Very well," Kara sighed, and walked towards the entrance, where the
scruffy-looking Janus was striding out of, and looking around. "Janus!"
He looked up and grinned, then walked towards her, using his staff to
help him scale the way up to her. "A high perch you’re on, Kara."
Kara looked out over the forest. They were several meters above the
entrance, as there were steep and narrow paths that wound up to the tallest
statues. Probably for maintenance, but she had noted that the statues had
been well kept.
"Kiel says some people are turning up soon," Kara said, tracing the
feathers on the cockatrice.
"Looks like it’d just jump out at you, eh?" Janus grinned, using one
end of his staff to point at the statue. "Yes. Centaurs, I believe."
"Centaurs!" Kara raised an eyebrow.
"They do exist," Janus said, "In the Unreal, most of all."
"What are they coming for?" Kara mused.
Janus shrugged. "They claim to be able to see the stars. Maybe they’d
come here to pay respects. More often than not, they’d just come here to
see who and what we are. They’re druidical, most centaurs are."
"And if I’m not mistaken," Kara said, pointing, "They’re here now."
***
They’re here now.
"Uh huh," Azrael said, moving his knight again, in an ‘L’ shape.
Kiel grinned, and moved another pawn. This time, Azrael was watching
her pawns – she seemed to be able to manipulate them into positions such
that her pawns had already taken off one of his castles and both his bishops.
I suppose they can wait.
"Right," Azrael said. His normal replies when he was concentrating were
monosyllabic ones. He carefully moved his castle, trying to move for a
pincers-like formation on her King.
Kiel studied the board, then moved a knight.
And I take your castle again.
***
Zak and Raven moved carefully down the treacherous grounds down to the
large meadow where the herd was feeding, and the dark elf ducked under
a large tree for the shade, Raven following.
Amen-Ra saw them and trotted forward. "Back again?"
"Kiel told us in not so many words to go and find something useful to
do," Zak said dryly.
"We never were introduced," a mare, slightly younger than Amen-Ra but
still with the mottled coat of age, trotted forward.
Amen-Ra nuzzled the mare in affection. "My mate, Khepera."
Khepera looked at them. "And you are?"
"Zaknafein Do’Urden," Zak said, with a courtly bow. He sometimes wondered
why he used his surname, which was technically not accorded to him any
more.
"Just Raven," Raven smiled.
"Satyrs have delightful names," Khepera said. Her voice was mellifluous,
unlike her mate’s light baritone.
"Thank you," Raven said, "And I see Hrayalin have better ones."
Amen-Ra looked to Zak, his ears twitching forward. "Ah, the mares always
have a lot to speak about. Care to follow me for some conversation?"
Zak gratefully left, striding effortlessly next to the hobbling creature.
"How old are you, actually?"
Amen-Ra looked at Zak. "Older than you, perhaps, but elves hide their
age well. I should say I am about six centuries."
"Six centuries!" Zak raised an eyebrow.
"Perhaps you are thinking in terms of horses, or horse-like creatures,"
Amen-Ra shrugged. "Only the unicorns and the centaurs live longer than
us. Perhaps the nightmares as well, but we are not sure of them. How old
are you?"
Zak smiled. "It is not often that I get to see creatures older than
I am. I have seen four centuries."
"About Horus’ age, then," Amen-Ra said.
"Something I would like to say," Zak remarked, as they walked to a shaded
pool at the edge of the herd, "Can Hrayalin be ridden?"
Amen-Ra took a drink, then raised his head back to look at the elf with
a shrewd look. "When against our will, no. You’d have to do a service,
for to allow someone to ride us is a great honor. Hoofed creatures do not
like other creatures on their backs, where they are most vulnerable."
"I see," Zak said, watching as two foals chased each other on spindly
legs. "And how do I ask?"
"You ask," Horus’ deep voice announced from behind them, "Whether you
can do us a service. When you’ve done enough, there would be a ride. Right
now, I’d like someone to scratch my ears."
Zak turned around to see the amused black stallion. "You’re large even
for Hrayalin," he said.
Horus inclined his head proudly. "That I am."
"And the most vain," Amen-Ra said good-naturedly.
The large black planted his feet firmly. "And rightfully so, father."
He trotted over to Zak, then lowered his massive head. "Well?"
Zak forced a laugh, though he was having some trouble forcing down the
excitement. "How am I supposed to get up on you? I’ve never ridden anything
other than Underdark lizards in my life."
"You can learn," Horus said brusquely, then sighed happily as Zak tentatively
scratched behind his ears. "Higher a little."
Lledrith RavenWolf
scissors or shear.
confronted Zak. "I trust my companions have not offended you?"
"They have not," he said, "Just startled us. The mares have just foaled
and we had to protect them."
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