Ryder shrugged. "Well, all I mean is, were I not so beaten up, I would have an advantage over you in a fight."
"If you think so," said Giselle, smiling, "then perhaps you should prove it."
Nazeem chuckled. "I believe you have just been challenged, my friend."
Ryder blushed. "I… I didn't-"
"Don't worry." Giselle nodded and touched his arm. "I'll wait until you are fully healed before I beat you again." She added her laughter to Nazeem's.
Ryder just shrugged, not knowing any other way to pull his foot out of his mouth.
"The dwarves have always had a particular hatred for the giants. But despite your lack of tact, your point does have relevance here," continued Giselle as they walked into the bustling open courtyard behind the wall. The brown-robed Broken Spear busied themselves with many different tasks. Fires were being lit. Wounded were being tended to. And on the walls above, sentries climbed atop huge stone blocks that gave them a view of the path and the plains beyond.
"You see," continued Giselle, "the giants were involved in another battle when the dwarves arrived at Fairhaven. They had already taken many casualties, and were not prepared to take on two foes at once. They fought until they realized all was lost, then they fled to the Underdark."
"The Underdark? I thought only the drow dwelt there," said Ryder.
Giselle shook her head. "There are many creatures who make their home below the surface of the world. The giants founded a new village there. It's called Cairnheim. It is said that there are passages to it scattered all over the Giant's Run Mountains." Giselle stopped walking when they reached the base of the tower.
There was a long pause, then Giselle clapped her hands. "And that concludes our history lesson for today. Please forgive me if I prattle on. I get excited about the past. Anyway," she stepped past the two men, "I'm sure you are both very tired." She looked up into the sky. "It will be getting dark soon. Find yourself a place to rest. There will be a feast tonight, to celebrate the great haul we made." She looked at them both. "And to welcome our new friends. Until then, be at ease. I have much work to do, but I will make sure to have a healer come take a look at your wounds."
With that, Giselle turned and walked away into the busy center of the courtyard. Ryder watched her go.
"I think she likes you, my friend," said Nazeem.
Ryder felt his heart race. "What?" He shook his head. "I didn't get that impression at all." The thought of this powerful woman being attracted to him did sort of excite him. He might have let himself enjoy it a bit more if it weren't for the guilt he felt over Samira.
"You know," replied Nazeem, "for a man with two good eyes, you see very little."
Ryder shook his head at the smiling Chultan. "I see what I choose to see."
"My point exactly."
As Giselle disappeared into the crowd, Ryder turned away and headed for a pile of straw under a canvas lean-to. He lay down on it, letting his aching body rest for the first time in what seemed like his entire life.
"Doesn't matter what she thinks anyway," he said as he settled in. "We'll be leaving soon."
That night there was a terrific feast and celebration. The tales of the battle grew longer. The foes they fought grew larger, and the heroic deeds grew more frequent. Ryder sat near the fire speaking with Nazeem, eating fresh meat off the bone.
A portly man wearing a leather apron with several huge stone mugs hanging from his belt approached them. He staggered when he walked, and his cheeks were a bright red. Under his left arm he carried a sloshing bucket full of a greenish liquid.
"Krogynth, gentlemen?" asked the overly jolly man.
Nazeem was on his feet in a flash, taking a giant-sized mug of whatever it was the man was peddling.
"Krogynth?" asked Ryder.
Nazeem's eyes were wide as he looked down into the grog. "It's a type of moonshine," explained the Chultan.
"Made from a fermented green mold," expanded the jolly man.
"And you drink this?" asked Ryder.
Nazeem took a large quaff then smacked his lips, wiping off any leftover drips with the back of his hand. "Don't knock it until you try it. Krogynth is hard to make and even harder to come by if you don't know the recipe." He held his mug out to Ryder. "You may never again get the opportunity to try it."
"Well," said Ryder, reaching out to take the mug from his friend. He sniffed it. The green liquid smelled vaguely like licorice root. "Since you put it that way." He lifted the stone mug with both hands and took a sip.
Despite its mild scent, Krogynth had a rather abrasive flavor. "It tastes like currants mixed with earwax."
The jolly man let out a belly laugh. "Don't it though?" He dipped another mug into the bucket and offered it to Ryder.
He pointed to the Chultan. "Let him have it." He looked down into the huge mug in his hands. It was more than half full. "I'll just finish this one."
"Suit yourself," said the jolly man, giving the fresh vessel of Krogynth to Nazeem.
The Chultan lifted his mug. "To freedom," he said.
Ryder lifted his own. "To going home," he replied.
Then both men drank.
As Ryder lowered his mug from his face, he looked up at Giselle standing over him.
"Having a good time, I see." She knelt beside him.
Ryder swallowed his mouthful of the foul-tasting liquid. The first sip he'd taken was starting to hit his head. His muscles relaxed, and the aches in his bones seemed to ease some.
"Yes," he said. "I do believe we are."
Giselle smiled. She had the most beautiful brown eyes.
"Good." She grabbed hold of his arm. "Now let me take a look at those wounds of yours."
Ryder let her have his arm. He enjoyed the touch of her skin. "I thought you were going to have a healer come look at me."
She pushed back the edge of his tattered gray tunic. "That's what I'm doing."
"You're a cleric?"
Giselle ran her fingers along his arm, poking at the bruises. She hit one that hurt like the nine hells, and Ryder bit down on his lip to keep from shouting.
"Does this surprise you?" she asked.
As the pain subsided, Ryder lifted his mug, struggling a bit with only one hand, and took a big gulp of the green stuff. "No," he said after swallowing. "I guess nothing about you should surprise me anymore."
Finishing her examination, Giselle fished around inside of her pouch and pulled out a stoppered bottle with a waxy substance covering the top. "Well, I'm not," she said, laughing as Ryder's jaw dropped open. She shoved the bottle into his free hand. "Unless you count handing out healing potions."
Ryder put down his mug of Krogynth and opened the bottle. "You're full of surprises." Then he downed the contents. Immediately he could feel the magical warmth spread out through his body, reaching from his stomach and touching everything out to the tips of his fingers. He exhaled as he lowered the bottle from his lips. He felt whole again, the most exquisite sensation he'd experienced in recent memory.
"Thank you," he said, letting the bottle slip to the ground.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it."
Ryder tested his joints, relishing the feeling of his body working the way it was supposed to without experiencing any pain. "I'll be ready to make the journey home tomorrow."
"Journey home?" asked Giselle.
Ryder turned to her. "I appreciate everything you have done for me," he said. "I owe you my freedom, and if I can ever repay that to you, I will do it gladly." He touched her hand. "But I must return to Duhlnarim." He looked away. "To my family."