A Rock & A Hard Place

Chapter 4
Chapter 5
5:1 End of Memory
5:2 Revelations by Correspondence
5:3 Fly Away Home
Chapter 6

5:1 End of Memory

The survivors had found no bodies either of their comrades or mounts. They did, however, find a sizable fissure in the larger outcrop of stone that led down into a caverness darkness.

This find brought about much debate. Fete offered Nadah many of the arguments the group had developed for staying: let the wounded rest; find the diplomat's remains; better to hunt the creatures out now than be ambushed later and so on. Nadah did not comment that this wasted precious sunlight that the survivors could have escaped in. It was pointless to argue with the past. Whatever the case, the party did not take the opportunity to cut its losses and run. In Nadah's opinion this was the fatal mistake.

In the end, the majority won out and the group went hunting. Hodge and the prior remained too wounded to assist. They remained in the sunny protection of the smaller rock where the prior had come to rest earlier. Hodge's wound had begun to fester.

Fete stood rear guard. He followed the rest as they were swallowed up by the cool darkness of the cave. The passage was so close that the men were force to squeeze sideways to get through. Many were only armed with an exposed dagger in hand or between teeth. Fete voice rose a bit. Nadah could see him sweat as he recounted the rest: the sound of metal on metal as the front guard found themselves among the creatures. In the dark, in the closeness, men panicked. Fete found himself forcefully push out of the tunnel, pell mell. Nadah figured he was lucky not to have had his head cracked open. Fete fell to the ground in the blinding sunlight, followed by the quick expulsion of Miller and the squire. His account became incoherent then, but Nadah was sure he had seen something back in the cave, retreating. He was quiet for a time, deep in his own thoughts. Maybe he had hit his head.

With some coaxing, Nadah was able to get his narrative started again, though only in bits and spurts. Fete's next memory was of burning things in a fire, next to Sergeant Hodge at sunset. Morale was low with reason. The second night was much worse. This time they recognized their attackers. Strong was among them, wretched and foul. The priest's shield held, though he's condition worsened. The survivors huddled behind the smaller outcrop. Fete said his eyes were playing tricks on him as he watched the things maneuver closer and closer to the small circle of firelight. But he couldn't be sure. Couldn't grasp what was out there but terror.

After that, Fete was pretty much useless. In the end, Nadah pieced together from his mutterings that both Miller and Fete ran, but Miller had probably not gotten away. Fete wasn't sure how he had gotten away. He began to hyperventilate as he struggled to stand. Against her usual practice, Nadah abruptly shoved his body into sleep. She had not moved from his motionless body as her mind raced over what to do.
***

5:2 Revelations by Correspondence

Before him laid the package on the rough wood of the table in Silas' room. Wayland was seated at the table. Silas stood at the door of his room, his face a mask of concentration. Delver was tapping and drumming around the package on the table, sometimes with the hilt of his dagger, sometimes with the ball of his palm. Periodically he would mutter something, or get a look of puzzlement on his face. Wayland found it distracting.

Silas came back from the door, with his usual long strides and pulled out a chair across from Delver, "it's safe, no one should be able to sense us now." He patiently watched the dwarf's motions with mild professional interest.

With a final rift, Delver looked up from the package and met Silas' gaze. "It contains strong magic, but not necessarily malign. It seems to be only potential at the moment though. We need to find its trigger. What is it's trigger?" he muttered as he began tapping again. Wayland placed a hand on the dwarf's arm.

"How about we open it?" Wayland was tired of sitting on his hands any longer while these two dallied around.

Delver gave him an exasperated look. With a grunt he expertly clicked his dagger back into its sheath. "If you must," Wayland heard him add under his breath, "you young fool."

He ignored the remark, and began unwinding the rag. Within many layers of cloth, Wayland found a blank piece of parchment wrapped around an ornate, cherrywood box. Wayland eagerly lifted the box from its wrapping. Silas picked up the discarded parchment and squinted at it's blank surface.

Wayland's fingers trembled a bit as he opened the lid of the box. Set in silk and velvet lay the gaudy pendant of the emir, dark and glittering. The only sound was Delver's sudden intake of breath as Wayland audaciously picked up the pedant from the box. The stone began to give off a faint blue glow in the palm of his hand.

"The trigger! It must be contact -- "
"Ah! There is a message, and it seems to be in zatane --"
"The seal! Who can gain say us now? We speak for the emir."

Silas and Delver shouted over each other to admonished Wayland.

"Alright! Alright!" Wayland yelled back. He hoped whatever Silas had done to stifle sound at the door, he had also done to the floor, walls and ceiling. He turned to Silas. "What does the note say?" as he attempted to regain conversational tones.

Silas gave him one of his more ugly looks, then turned to the parchment he held in his right hand, "It is from the emir, too faint to read, but," Silas moved the parchment closer to the light emitted from the jewel in Wayland's hand, "ah, yes, it seems the jewel reveals more of its text. If I may?"

"I'm not going to give it to you!"

"Oh stop being so greedy, you damn mongrel!" Silas suddenly had Wayland's wrist in his grip. To emphasize his point, Silas began to squeeze. Wayland continued to hold the pendant even as his bones began to grate. The air buzzed between them. The silence was abruptly broken as Delver tapped out a slow warning with the butt of his exposed dagger. The Dwarf magician raised a bushy eyebrow and gave the pair a meaningful look. Wayland glanced back at Silas and reluctantly released the pendant. It clattered unceremoniously to the table.

"It's ours. Not yours, nor your god's. Remember that priest," he spat as he massaged his wrist.

"Courteous as ever rogue," Silas picked up the pendant in his left hand and held it to the note. After studying it for a moment, he read:

Dear Men of Agreement,

Great pleasure is mine, that we are working together. I am placing this jewelry in your care for your liking and helping of your quest. I'm willing to offer you the use of this pendant to show the good faith that is in me. It will become warm to the touch as you get closer to that which I seek through you. Wear it in pleasant health.

Use it in the seeking of my object which you will be looking for. It's swift return will be greatly appreciated, when you have found my object. Please do the necessary, thanking you.

Regards,
Hakem

postscript: The object is named Timothy.

"Well, it's in bad zatane," Silas said wryly.

***

5:3 Fly Away Home

Sajal did not want to go. The hawk was never comfortable being out of her sight for very long. Quahabat was only a few hours away on the wing, but that was many miles to the north, leaving Nadah unprotected in Sajal's mind. Nadah ignored his objections, and continued flooding the bird's mind with pictures of the city from above, then the roof top of the House of Abel, then of a tall, brown-haired man with green eyes and a medallion around his neck. Against her better judgment, she felt she should let the contemptible, arrogant bully know about his lost bird. He had a right to know.

She had talked with Omar, but he nor his men recognized the description of the outcrop of rocks. Nadah figured it couldn't be too far from here, considering Fete had walked/stumbled, but Sajal had seen nothing obvious as he had flown deeper into the west. Nadah now offered water to the bird as the two of them debate her request. Omar's men shifted a bit nervously watching the woman and the bird appear to argue in front of the makeshift tent. The foreigner still slept inside.

The bird drank some of the water. Nadah went back to where her pack lie in the shade of the tent and dug out a roll of paper. Using her dagger edge she sliced a small amount off the end of the roll and pulled out a quill and ink. The quill bore a marked resemblance to her flying companion's tail-feathers. She scratched a quick note on the rough surface, then threw a handful of sand on the paper.

Nadah spoke soothing words to Sajal, as she tightly rolled up the strip of paper and attached it securely to the bird's leg. She held out her arm to him, and gently stroked his feathers as she stood. He was truly the most majestic bird she had ever seen. "Bring them to me, cor meum," she murmured to her bird of prey. "Now Fly!" With that she hefted Sajal into the upper blue. He caught the up drafts of heat and wheeled to the north. Nadah watched him until he merged into the horizon's wavering heat, his last cry echoing in her mind longer than in her ears.

***