The Winds of Ysgard - Part One

[Legendary Sidekick]

"Didn't think?"

Addison had no intention to appear insubordinate. She minded her tone as she went on.

"I'm a wyvern-slayer. That might not mean anything to the rest o' ye, and maybe when I say it, it just comes off as bragging. But it ain't that. I risked me neck to earn the title, and with it's a responsibility. I don't get to go parading in wyvernhide, then hide behind me allies when I'm still in the fight.

"Let me tell what went through me head—there were more gytrashes hunting the others—and I was right, wasn't I? I found a gytrash waiting to strike Rikhard. Maybe Loke would've got to him without me help, but I wasn't about to gamble lives. Yeah, the gytrash attacked me mind, but me mind'll recover. What if I did nothing, and he jumped Rikhard before Loke could get to him? Then we'd all say well there ain't nothing any of us could've done about it. Only I'd know it ain't true, because I sat and did nothing because, oh, poor me, me arm's bit.

"I appreciate ye healing me and getting that mutt off o' me, and I'm gonna need ye in order to understand me magic so I don't go around blowing up me shockers and acting like a crazed animal, embarrassing meself. But one thing I cannot accept from ye is an order to do nothing. I need to toss me wyvernhide if I do that, and if ye don't appreciate what being a wyvern-slayer means to me, maybe you'll appreciate this:

"If I do nothing when I know damn well I can do something, that's breaking me oath to the Wolf Queen. I met her and we spoke, and I made an oath: any o' ye're in danger, I won't falter. I told her I'd not let one o' ye die o' hesitation."

Addison looked Farrun in the eye.

"I did think. What I didn't do is stop and think."

 

[Nimue]

Farrun sighed and rubbed his temples. Of course he hadn't expected her to nod meekly, but... "I can't say whether or not you thought about it," he amended, "But did you really understand the risk? You don't have full control over your magic, and you went into the mind of a creature of mental twisting and illusion--over a great distance, which is never a good idea. What if Loke hadn't killed it? You might still be trapped in a prison of the gytrash's devising. I'm no druid--I can't be sure that I could wake you, and even if I could, it might go very badly." Worry strained his voice. "Do you know what can happen if you go too deeply into a trance, even within your own mind? You fall into a sleep you don't wake from."

He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again his voice was even. "There are times when you can't do anything, or it's wiser not to, and you have to trust to someone else."

Can I believe what I'm hearing? Farrun could feel Thoros's opinions from a distance.

I know, Farrun told him, shortly and wearily.

"You're hunting with a group, now, and--and going off after that gytrash was like haring off after a wyvern without even telling the rest of the hunt where you're going," he continued, grasping for a comparison. "At least tell someone what you're trying to do, all right?"

He shook his head. "I understand why you did that. I don't understand why, after such a bad experience, you're roaming and chasing foxes without taking a rest." Despite his words, his tone was gentle. "Please, wait until you're healed and rested before making any more experiments. You want to be able to ride tomorrow, don't you?"

 

[Legendary Sidekick]

Addison managed a smile. She knew he meant well. "Ye ain't the first to tell me it's wiser to do nothing. Everyone who said it would sooner die than do nothing. That said, ye asked an explanation; you deserve one. I needed the fox. I wasn't aiming at her, but… the gytrash left a feeling I needed to be rid of, which I am, thanks to Brownie."

Addison was pretty sure she'd never harm a fox from this day forward, even if one bit her in the ass.

"I'm done with magic for the night," she went on. "That's a promise."

 

[Tom]

Troia opened her mouth to answer Farrun, but then shut it as an argument suddenly sprang to life around her. She waited while words flew between Farrun and Addison, hoping they would be done soon, but soon she realized that that didn't seem likely.

So she slunk over to Rikhard, sighing as she listened to raised voices. "Come on. Let's get that buck dressed."

 

[Ireth]

Rikhard nodded and followed Troia, glad to have something else to focus on besides the others' arguments and his own bleak thoughts.

 

[Nimue]

Farrun sighed again, scratching his beard. "I'm not saying you always need to sit back, just know when charging in might do more harm to you than good for others. Aye, this comes from experience. Strange enough, people don't really appreciate you half-killing yourself when you're the only living dragonrider in the army." He gave a wry, tired smile. "You might have to come to terms with the knowledge that your duty to survive is more important than your desire to fight, one of these days."

His voice had gotten low and introspective, and the fire crackled in the silence that followed. He lifted his head and gestured at Addison. "Here, sit down, and let me take a look at your side and shoulder." He'd closed her wounds better than he had Einan's, in his hurry to make sure that both of them were safe, and he could heal them well enough to avoid bandaging, now. Remembering her request to sleep away from the men, he thought she'd want to take her shirt off even less than Einan had.

 

[Legendary Sidekick]

Addison undid the laces on the left side her dress, from underarm to waist. She let the material fall, not concerning herself about what may be exposed. "Thank ye," she said to Farrun. She sat and patiently awaited his healing touch.

 

[Nimue]

A little surprised at her willingness to disrobe, Farrun sat down beside her and began briskly cleaning the blood from her side. These scratches were already well on their way; he healed them further, and left them unbandaged. Even if the slight scabbing that was left broke open, there was little underneath them to bleed.

Her shoulder was another matter--there was still some healing going on beneath the skin. He gave it a good push on its way and numbed the area, slathering on salve and wrapping it neatly with bandage. "All set. Try not to itch anything, alright?"

He rose to his feet, breathing evenly to clear his head. Both Einan and Addison should be able to sleep well tonight--and so would he, if he kept this up. But there was one more thing he had to do. "I'll go set a ward, make sure no magic finds its way into camp. Thoros will be our guard against any immediate danger."

I do not think the dogs will return either, while I am here, Thoros objected.

They are subtle, and I'm not sure how far their magic reaches. I don't want a straggler to lure someone out of camp in the middle of the night.

 

[Gryphos]

Bendaitz sat pensive, fingers steepled over his mouth. Farrun's answer to his question did calm his query, but then other thoughts took hold. As always, Bendalitz was asking questions, having ideas, considering options.

"Hmm," he said. "I came to the conclusion earlier that gyrates are sentient, based on the fact they can understand our memories and fears in complex ways. They can even understand us." He leant forward and looked to his fellows. "In that case, in some distant hypothetical plane, it would be possible to reach ... an understanding, with these creatures. Imagine if you could command even a small group of them, or even one of them! You could do tremendous things." He smiled grimly at the endless possibilities.

 

[Legendary Sidekick]

Addison knew her monsters—well enough that she should've seen through the illusions. The buck saw wolves. She adjusted her wolfskin to cover up before replying to Bendalitz.

"It ain't that. They don't know our fears, but they know how to tap into that part o' the mind that feels it most. What your mind's eye sees is like to be what haunts ye from your past, or it's a deep fear ye feel now. I guess all o' ye earned me trust. Honestly, me usual fear—far as I know—is being in a group o' men, which is most o' the time if ye mean to make a living hunting beasts. A girl's gotta be careful out in the wild, which reminds me—"

Addison may have exposed her left breast a moment ago. She felt naked enough without telling them—

"Aw, skip it. No matter how the gytrash's tricks work, if me beastspeaking could beat 'em at their mind game, you're right, Bendalitz. A pack o' Black Dogs'd be a perfect army for a druid. Scary magic, the enemy might not know they're tricked, and if they do, they blame the gytrashes not the druid, and gytrashes're shits so who cares if they die?"

 

[Tom]

"How are you doing?" Troia asked Rikhard, as they set to work on the buck. He'd been quiet for some time, she'd noticed, and she wondered if it was because of the gytrashes. Perhaps they had called up unpleasant ghosts from his past. "Did the Black Dogs get to you?"

Take it slow, Troia, she reminded herself.

He has the look of a beaten dog--and you know what not to do around those.

She took a deep breath, then started over. "Sorry. You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to."

Before he lets you help him, you have to earn his trust.

Give him a reason to trust you.

As she waited for Rikhard to speak, she paused to rub her knife clean on the grass. An idea struck her, and she whistled for Ari. Immediately he appeared at her elbow.

"Here, boy. Einan says you held off the gytrash that jumped him, so I'd say you deserve a treat for being so brave."

She cut a strip of venison from the flank they had just dressed, and tossed it to him. He snapped it up, then sat staring at her with his mouth spread in a sled dog's wide grin. She rubbed his forehead and turned to Rikhard.

"You know," she began, "Ari lost his mum and littermates when he was just a pup, so I had to take care of him. He was frightened at first. He wouldn't take food from me, or even come near me. I had to earn his trust little by little. But now he and I are a team--I know I can rely on him, and he knows he can rely on me."

 

[Ireth]

Rikhard glanced toward Troia when she spoke, and nodded in response to her question about the gytrashes. What a strange name. When she assured him he didn't have to talk about what he'd seen, he tried to smile, and wasn't sure if he succeeded. "Thanks."

He watched her interaction with Ari, and tilted his head at her words. "Sounds like you have quite the bond." Could he have such a bond with the company, too? He'd never been so close to anyone since before his mother had died.

 

[Nimue]

Farrun scratched his head at Bendalitz's proposition, as Addison spoke. "You have nothing to fear from this group," he said firmly. "But if you'd still like to sleep apart from camp, you should pick your spot so I can include it in the ward circle."

Those beasts are dogs with magic, nothing more, Thoros rumbled dismissively, with a snort that could be heard across the campsite. "Thoros doesn't think the gytrashes are comprehending or intelligent," Farrun said, gathering the rest of the dragon's unspoken opinion. "But then again, I'm not sure he thinks I'm very intelligent either..." He rubbed the back of his neck and turned towards the edge of the camp, picking out a good place to begin the ward. "No more mental duels with gytrashes, Addison, not for a while."

I think you're intelligent, Thoros protested, with a different, whuffling exhale. You are not a dragon. That is not a bad thing. I think it is a very good thing.

Farrun smiled despite himself, letting some of his embarrassed good-feeling wash back to Thoros in reply. His smile faded. I don't feel much smarter than those dogs, right now. They bested me. Without your help I would have been dogmeat.

 

[Legendary Sidekick]

Addison pointed out the crest of the nearest hill.

"I think I best set me tent there. It's in sight, but I can go down the far side o' the hill if I've a need."

She asked Troia if she approved of that spot, then turned back to Farrun.

"I know ye ain't happy I pushed meself tonight, but I don't regret what the fox showed me. I understand I ain't meself after I'm in a beast's head. That's why I lost it after the gytrash. Not so much his mental magic, but his own fear when his head was split. When I'm up for practicing, I might give the fox another go. Her or Mount Freckle should be safe. Still, I won't be meself for a bit, so I'll say this up-front so there ain't a life-long regret later."

She looked at all the men.

"If I link with a beast in heat and start making offers, please refuse me. Reject me harshly at that. I mean no offense, but to offer meself to any o' ye—to any man—that ain't me." Turning to Troia, she added, "I don't know what I'll be like if I'm behind the eyes of a horny animal. I'm going to tell ye before I practice. When I come to, Princess, you've me permission to slap me if ye must."

 

[Ireth]

Rikhard looked at Addison and nodded. "I'll do that." He wasn't inclined to accept such offers anyway, from anyone. At least with Addison, not to mention the rest of the group, he'd have the ability to say 'no'. And hopefully the courage.

 

[DMThaane]

"You have nothing to worry about with me," Loke said, leaning back to watch the sky. "I'm hardly so free with affection that I'd take any on offer."

Although he had to admit, she had a strange apprehension about men. Was it simply a lack of familiarity or was some trauma involved? If the latter, it clearly didn't haunt her enough for the dogs to seize upon it.

He recalled Bendalitz's earlier ponderings.

"If they are mere beasts, would that not make them easier to control? Beasts are simple creatures, open to manipulation, and even a hound of terror can be made to feel fear."

 

[Legendary Sidekick]

Addison made puppy dog eyes at Rikhard. "Oh, that easy to refuse, am I?" she asked in a tone of feigned indignation, then with a mischievous grin in Loke's direction, she added, "I thought meself cute enough you'd have to think on it a bit."

 

[Nimue]

"Aye, I'd never--" Farrun agreed, and then reconsidered his words in light of Addison's playful offense-taking. "If there was any sign you weren't in your right mind, none of us would take advantage of that. Again, though, 'tis best to tell us when you're trying to latch onto an animal. There can be other dangers. We'd not want you to flee into the wilds and break something, either."

Truth be told, he had always fallen for a certain kind of woman--tall, dark-haired, and curvy. The risk, he thought, wasn't much there.

Despite his attempt to steer the conversation onto safer shores, he couldn't help thinking of some of the dragonlore he'd been taught... And the risk of similar effects on the riders when dragons mated.

I don't see what the issue is, Thoros grumbled. I've had to put up with plenty of your--

My mind doesn't swamp yours when I'm not careful, Farrun retorted.

And he had never had a mate to quicken those feelings. That was one of the few things they did not often speak about--Thoros's loneliness. But while he thought of it in sympathy, a small part of him was glad not to have to deal with a dragon in love. He could understand Addison's apprehension.

 

[Gryphos]

The disappointment was clear on Bendalitz's face upon hearing his idea would never work. "Ah well," he said. "It was just a fanciful pondering of possibility."

After that his mind drifted away and he could not pay attention to what the others were speaking of. Something about Addison getting horny. Either way, the subject did recall to him memories of what some might consider love. Others might simply call it affection and lust and ... well, it didn't matter. Bendalitz did call it love. And it was gone. Just the memory, though, stirred such stimulating thoughts.

He got up and made for the wagon. "I'm going to put up my tent."

 

[Nimue]

After that night on the moor, a pall lingered over their party for a few days. Conversations were terser, silences longer. Farrun knew he was not helping the mood, but the darkness had its claws in him. The first night he was too worn out to do anything but sleep, but that second night, with the lamp of a homestead in the distance and the sliver of moon overhead and all else blackness, he lay awake and saw the vision before him again, bright as day. Addison and Einan were healed now, beyond the chance of pain or even a scar, as well as he and their own youthful health could make them, but in his head he saw those arrows driving home, over and over again.

How could he have fallen so easily into their trap? How could he have let others fall prey while he wallowed in an illusion? Sorcerer indeed.

The answer came to him from a distance, where Thoros was curled around a rocky tor, making himself into a great boulder in the night. Even after these years, you still believe that at any moment the Yvalhyn will come down and take away what we have won from them. I know it is possible, but you fear it, and within that fear you believe that it will happen.

Farrun lay there for a while in silence, and when at last he sent his wordless agreement, it did not feel like a weight lifted. More like an old burden remembered, and weighed anew. The cold sky pressed down on him. Thoros, having ended the matter, was drifting off to sleep with reptilian single-mindedness. Farrun stared into the shadows for a while longer, then twitched off his paralysis, left the ward-circle of the campsite to piss, wash his face in cold water from the creek, and then headed back, and went to sleep.

--

Because if there was one thing he was good at, it was doing what was needed, and ignoring all else. And what needed to be done was simple: hunting, training, driving the waggon, watching the horizon. He kept busy until his guilt and anger fit into a cask that could be corked up and put into a deep cellar, somewhere out of mind.

The road led them through the mist and furze of the moorland without any detours into the swamps, and the waggon wheels sunk into the mud only once after a good rainshower, and came out again before too long with horses' strength and a little practical sorcery. The party trained hard, morning and evening, switching partners and testing edges. Weaponswork was more familiar ground than the matter of Addison's magic--though they both tried gamely, Farrun was neither druid nor teacher, and Addison was no mage-school apprentice. The progress they made was unpredictable, at best, but he heard a great deal of the opinions of the local wildlife.

It was in fine weather, too, that they came to the north-west edge of the Sverenmoor and began the climb down the moor wall, down along the switchbacks with a careful eye to the waggon's pace. The sun shone on the River Bearn that ran down from the north through the country below, a tributary of the Valemorn. And on the near bank of the river Farrun could make out on the horizon the town of Ilstenford-- A true town, no overgrown village, with encircling walls and the temple and burgrave's house in built in stone on the hill. The gleam of bright new thatch on a hundred cottages lifted his heart. He had been through Ilstenford before, but many years ago, and it had been left in poor shape by the war. They'd sleep in real beds tonight, and have hot water for washing, and if Gerta smiled on them, there'd be mead from furze honey…

They neared the town as the sun was sinking into a bank of clouds, and blue shadows crept over the hills. But Ilstenford was ablaze with light--lamps in windows, lanterns aglow between the houses. Bonfires crackled outside the walls, lighting tents and merchant caravans. They could hear voices raised within the town--a low murmur at first, then singing, music, laughter. Farrun's hand eased on the hilt of his greatsword, where it had strayed unconsciously. This was no disturbance, no shade of the broken town he'd passed through five years ago, but a festival of some kind. Not a gods-day that he knew of, but near enough the time of a springtide celebration.

The gates were flung wide open, watched by guards with bright-painted shields and bedecked with strings of green-and-gold pennants. The colors of the West Kingdom--nothing to clarify what kind of feast day this was. The streets within Ilstenford, glittering with lanterns in the growing dusk, were alive with folk. Dancing, rousting, jostling with drink in hand, milling about the merchants' stalls. Pipe and tambour music rose from every corner, from minstrels with brave feathers in their caps. Their party was large enough, all ahorse, to part the crowd, and they made their way through to the row of inns. Boys in colorful tunics jumped up from doorways and waved to get their attention, calling out offers of hospitality and price. Farrun leaned down from horseback, matched up coins with the look of the inn fronts, and chose a place that looked like a good night's sleep, and had the room for all of them besides.

They wrestled the horses and waggon into a stableyard already crowded with fairgoer's carts, and finally shuffled themselves into the inn common room, dusty from the road among everyone in their best clothes. Farrun settled down at the bar, counting out coin and negotiating with an amiable innkeeper in a resplendent green waistcoat. Rooms, a meal, and a hot bath for everyone. He shelled an extra copper at the end for a mug of ale, and downed the cool brew gratefully, then turned around to face the others.

"Change of pace, this. Anybody wants to draw on their purse for spending money, now'd be a good time. Don't know when we'll see another market like this."

In truth, it was quieter inside the common room than in the streets outside. He had been pleased to see Iridheen elves and more than a few dwarves in the crowd outside. A more varied collection of folk than the villages they'd passed through, and much less likely to give them trouble. They'd have a little peace, and he meant to drink to it…