Morning of the 8th
day, inside a cave in the mountains
It is still some time before dawn
when the others wake up to the smell of cardamom and sweet
bread. Zoltan looks out at the frozen lake.”The sky is clear” he
mumbles, “We should hurry.”
Sir Milos, the Fox
Knight
As the knights put
away their bedrolls and gather their equipment, Milos speaks to
Perilake in a sober tone. "If your son speaks to you again,
ask him of any vulnerability the Elf may have. The boy has been among
that court for some time and may know things that could advantage
us."
Referee
Zoltan turns around. “I
wonder how much Avert has learned from the Elf. Weaving spells it
seems ... and maybe more ... " He spreads out Adler's map on the
ground. "Where should we go? We could move north-east and hope
to evade the Wild Fae or move north-west and try to sneak past them
or we move directly north and try to stay hidden, maybe the chapel
will serve as a shelter once we reach the northern mountain range.”
He points at the fountain south of Nettle's Brugh. “For whatever reason this was added to
the map on the wall of the temple of the heavens. Maybe we could move
east to try to outrun the Rusalki?” He considers this for a second.
“Or we might be able to climb higher above the cave and get a
better overview of the surrounding regions, it's a clear day, we
should be able to see for miles. … but do we have the time?"
 |
| Adler's Map |
Ser Perilake, The
Gilded Knight
"North, to the
chapel. It puts distance between the Rusalki, and if they find us
there, we will have walls to defend." Perilake looks to the
north. "And I have faith in Sivka, and if not in her master
then at least in his own interests. She will return to us, given
time."
Sir Anastaz, The
Salt Knight
Anastaz nods.
"We must be prepared to make a stand, if need be."
Referee
You leave the cave at
dawn. The sky is turning pink in the east and all clouds are blown
away by the Fox Knight's storm. It is bone chilling cold as you
descend deeper into the shadow of the mountains. Before noon you
reach a valley of frozen marshland and yellow grass. Zoltan studies
the rocks that lead up onto a mountain ridge. “We should be able to
... mumbles ... but it won't be easy.” His lips a blue. From deeper
within the tall grass a black bird is singing and you all hear it
call. “Come and find me!”
Sir Milos, the Fox
Knight
The Fox Knight sings
a simple response in a high childlike falsetto.
“Blackbird,
blackbird, reed and sky,
Tell your father where you lie.
Also this,
and answer true—
What kind of hand is holding you?”
Referee
Under the cloudless sky
it is silent for a moment, there is only the lashing of strong gales
as the reeds bow before them in wave after wave. Finally the bird
chirps six dissonant tones: “A single elfin hair” and for
a moment you hear it flutter within the blades of grass.
 |
| Frozen Marshland |
Ser Perilake, The
Gilded Knight"Your voice echoes
within my sleep
Soon we make our way to
your captors keep
To end the nightmare of
your mother's hell
We must know how to
free you from this spell"
Perilake sings back
Sir Heldris the Dove
Knight
As they walk the
trail against the cold wind, this bird’s song seems just another
mockery from this hostile land. Heldris finds himself whistling an
eerie tune from his homeland, something he had forgotten and that
brings back haunting memories.
Referee
You wait for an answer
but it won't come and finally you follow Zoltan towards the eastern
face of the mountain. Then there is movement behind you and when you
turn around the trap springs and something emerges from the grass.
Two figures clad in smoothbark armour rush towards you and they fan
out and the next moment they are upon you, striking with their curved
golden blades.
Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight
Perilake has just
turned around as the warrior thrusts his blade forward, trying to
impale the Gilded Knight. Zoltan draws the Crane in a flash and
parries the curved blade but the Fae uses the momentum to strike
again, aiming for Perilake's throat and the Gilded Knight barely manages to
raise Rzeźnik to deflect the strike.
Sir Milos, the Fox
Knight
Milos slips low
behind the elf and slices precisely across their shanks with Tesák.
Their knees lurch forward, opening them up to the Dove Knight's
brutal stroke.
Sir Heldris the Dove
Knight
The Dove Knight
turns suddenly and unsheathes his sword. He wastes no time as he
recognises the elfin armours and the perilous weapons. The wings on
his armour quiver with nervousness as he slashes rapidly at one of
the soldiers, leaving a gaping wound from shoulder to hip, blood
dripping profusely.
Sir Anastaz, The
Salt Knight
Anastaz brings up
his shield just in time to block an attack from one of the warriors
and deftly brings up his mace. The two trade blows, another swipe of
the golden blade falling impotently on the Salt Knight's coraline
mail. The blade catches in the elaborate mailwork, and Anastaz pulls
the Fae warrior as he smacks them with the mace. The warrior goes
down in the grass, their delicate features crushed and bleeding.
Anastaz gestures
toward the fallen warrior with his mace. "A prisoner could
prove useful, if it doesn't slow us down."
 |
| Wild Fae warriors (depicted in their favourite season) |
Ser Perilake, The
Gilded Knight
Perilake blinks, and
smiles. "My brothers..." he breathes, and slaps Zoltan
hard on the back. "I walk beside more than just one knight
worthy of Elfbane." He picks up the golden blade dropped by
the fallen fae warrior, and hefts it as he ponders the former bearer.
"We could bind them and carry the weight between myself and
Zoltan, it would not slow us much" He takes a few practice
swings. "They could tell us of Coredis, of my son...but i do
not know if we could trust those words." He raises the blade
thoughtfully, then lowers it, leaning in to pull the Faes broken face
up by its hair, shaking it lightly until a moan escapes from their
lips.
"What do you say?
Do you wish to live? Is there anything you could swear by that would
buy another beat of your heart?"
Zoltan peels the
helm off the dead warrior, studies it then dons it. His eyes catch
Perilake's, who nods at the warrior in his grasp. Silently the Pigeon
Knight begins to unbuckle the stricken warriors armour and helm. The
fae's attempt to push him away is feeble, and ceases immediately when
it feels its own golden blade at its throat. "My question is
more pressing than your possessions, servant of Coredis."
Perilake hisses.
Referee
The Fae looks up at you
with bloodshot eyes and says through smashed teeth.”My lord …
sends his regards ....” His face is swollen and bloodied and he is
hard to understand. “ … and invites you to … the … “ he
swallows blood. “ … the Halls of Desire .... a coach is waiting
for you.” ”As for me … if warriors of inferior races … “ He
turns to the side as much as your grip allows and spits out a tooth”
... can defeat me ... my life is worth nothing.”
Ser Perilake, The
Gilded Knight
Perilake drops the
fallen Fae to the ground, its head bouncing heavily in the dirt and
forcing another groan as its battered skull makes contact. "I
suppose even the fae can speak the truth in their own fashion."
He mutters, his hand tightening on the blade and then loosening,
reaching down only to help Zoltan strip the fallen warrior before
both step away from their defeated foe
Sir Anastaz, The
Salt Knight
Anastaz glances
between the fallen warrior and Perilake. Something unspoken passes
between them, and the Salt Knight silently takes the golden scimitar
from the other knight. He lifts the warrior's head and sighs before
he quickly slits his throat.
Sir Milos, the Fox
Knight
Milos frowns as he
watches the silent exchange between Perilake and Anastaz. Eyes
suddenly smoldering with anger, he turns toward the Gilded Knight as
if to speak, but then with an obvious effort holds his tongue. He
looks down and busys himself stripping the armor from the other
fallen elf.
Ser Perilake, The
Gilded Knight
Perilake sighs
heavily, and lays a quiet hand on Anastasz shoulder for a long
moment. With a squeeze, he lets go and looks to the path above.
"We should take what we can. Perhaps we can repair the other
armour, and those blades may prove useful too."He moves to
help Milos. "But we should be quick"
Sir Milos, the Fox
Knight
Milos grunts his
assent but does not look up from his task.
Referee
You leave the corpses
behind you, stripped of their armour and weapons and climb up the
rock. The Pigeon Knight places his feet slowly and deliberately,
using one hand to pull himself up when needed and offering the other
in support for his brothers. An ice cold eastern wind greets you at
the top of the mountain ridge in the afternoon and the sky is
spotless azure silk. As you take a break on the leeward side a small,
white fox sniffs around the provisions. She is cautious and skinny
and won't take her eyes of you while she searches for something to
eat. Zoltan throws the bone of a roast pheasant at her and looks to
the north: “I reckon we'll reach the summit before it is getting
too dark to find shelter.”
Ser Perilake, The
Gilded Knight
"Good."
Perilake stretches, and looks back down the ridge line, along
their trail. "Darkness will slow the Rusalki down too... I
hope."
Sir Milos, the Fox
Knight
Milos' eyes soften
as he takes in the animal's state. He dips slowly to one knee so as
not to frighten her."Winter has been hard, hasn't it little
one. Maybe it can give back a bit." He tosses her one of the
last pieces of jerky from the White Stag. "We will be making
camp soon, hopefully under some shelter. You are welcome to join our
fire if it pleases you."
Referee
The fox jumps back and
looks over her shoulder for an escape route but then licks her lips
with a tiny pink tongue and crouches closer to the jerky. Zoltan
pours tea for you all from the pot on the small fire and ostentatiously ignores the fox and soon she whimpers in delight as she
feasts on the piece of meat. When you make your way north over the
ridge she follows you at a safe distance.
You arrive at the
summit in late afternoon and search for shelter while the sky turns
into a dark sapphire, spotless and beautiful. The last rays of the
sun disappear and it is already dark when you find a fissure in the
rock and behind it a small cave. You squeeze through the crack and
built your fire, burning the last dry wood and huddle around it. The
acrid smell in the cave is soon replaced by the aroma of exotic
spices from the Fae's provisions. From outside you infrequently hear
the fox's raspy barks and she won't follow you inside.
 |
| A skinny white Fox |
Sir Anastaz, The
Salt Knight
Anastaz leans up
against a boulder and observes the Fox Knight repairing the bisected
cuirass. Occasionally he points out minor flaws in Milos's technique,
where the other knight's experience in mending other kinds of
vestments does not apply to the maintenance of armor.
Sir Milos, the Fox
Knight
Milos smiles to
himself as Anastaz reaches across to point out a missed stitch and
softly recommend a different approach. He basks in the easy
companionship of the moment. When they hear some faint barks from
outside, the Fox Knight looks up from his work and says with
tenderness "I'll take her a few more scraps when I start the
first watch." Then he returns to his exacting work and the
murmured commentaries of the Salt Knight.
Ser Perilake, The
Gilded Knight
Perilake watches the
Fox and Salt Knight work, and takes comfort that the young knight and
his old friend can find companionship even in this strange place;
even with the former's obvious bad temper at the latter's execution.
He is young, Perilake thinks. As young as we were when first we rode
out. He has not had mercy thrown in his face, as Anastasz has. He has
not seen friend spill the blood of friend, as we all have. He has not
seen the joy fade from the desperate faces of the misguided, as we
slew the coming of their great saviour, or so many other things. He
does not yet know that his oaths will place burdens of regret upon
his shoulders as much as any glory. But he is a good man, and he is
kind. May he come to know Salt as we do, and may he continue to see
so clearly what my brother has buried so deeply within himself. The
Gilded Knight turns, and sleeps. He dreams of Farkash, and of a white
dove flying from its tower, searching for the song of the blackbird
over the horizon.
An expanse of wheat
ripples in the breeze on a bright Harvest day. Milos is in shirt
sleeves, tossing heaps of grain onto a wooden threshing sled. His
pitchfork lifts the golden wheat high into the air in slow arcs.
Warmed by the early morning sun, the seed fills the air with a sweet
nutty aroma. Drops of sweat fall down his brow, his throat, dampening
his shirt so that it clings to his skin. The simple work fills his
heart with contentment, a relief to be so far away from courts and
intrigue and bloodshed. His footsteps raise a fine dust as he leads
the sled across the hardpacked threshing floor. He pauses to stretch
and looks toward a cart on the edge of the field. In the shade
underneath it sits a familiar fox, now in her tawny colors, watching
him with curiosity and tilted head. Someone’s legs hang over the
back of the cart, swinging slowly back and forth to the rhythm of a
tune, a tune played on a flute. It is Mariusz, looking radiant in the
bright sunlight, beckoning him with his eyes. Milos drops the
pitchfork, leaving his work unfinished. He is enthralled by the
music, taken by the young man’s beauty, flushed from the sticky
heat of the day. The distance between them disappears and as he
places his hands on Mariusz’s knees, his legs stop swinging and he
lowers the flute from his mouth, but somehow the music continues.
Another pair of hands seize his shoulders and spin him around. The
Lord of the Hidden Grove stands before him, resplendent and inviting.
Milos’ knees weaken at the sight of him and the feel of him so
close, he feels his body surrender but here there is no resistance,
only desire. Now he is Anastaz towering over him and wrapping him in
an impossibly warm embrace, murmuring words incomprehensible but
achingly tender. Then a strange laughter rumbles through him and as
Milos pulls back from the embrace, the Salt Knight is gone and the
Elf now stands in his place. “So many desires, young Fox. You can
have them all fulfilled and more. Remember that when the time comes.”
And Milos awakens, his heart racing, his body damp with sweat despite
the cold air of the cave
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