By the time Shal woke up the next morning, nightmare dreams of violent lightning bolt feuds still fresh in her memory, Ren had already taken care of the horses and packed up everything except her bedroll and Tarl's, which she noticed was teasingly close to her own. Ren held up his finger to his lips to shush Shal so she wouldn't bother Tarl, then he reached out his hand to help her up. He continued to hold her hand even after she was standing and led her toward a clear brook that fed its pristine waters into the black bile of the Barren River.
"I've tried before to tell you…" Ren began awkwardly. "That is, before, I wanted…" Ren stopped again, groping for words. "You remind me so much…"
"Of Tempest. I know." Shal looked down into the clear water. Every stone was visible, even in the deepest parts of the stream. The morning sunlight sparkled off the clear water and shone off the submerged leaves of the silverweed that lined the stream's banks.
"I've wanted so many times to tell you how much I… But the other night, I finally put Tempest to rest, Shal. I said good-bye to her once and for all. I know that a part of what I've felt for you has been tied up with my feelings for her…"
Shal reached for Ren's other hand and searched his sapphire-blue eyes with her own. "And now we can be friends and see where that takes us? Is that what you want to say?" Shal smiled and held Ren's hands tightly in her own.
Ren had noticed Shal watching him a dozen times or more. He knew she was attracted to him. How could she so easily understand and accept that he was asking only to be friends? He had not wanted her to be hurt, but he had expected her to show at least a glimmer of regret. Yet here she was, smiling, her green eyes twinkling as though she were delighted with the news.
"I'm no fool, Ren. You should realize that by now. I know your stares and attention were really directed at a memory."
Ren let his hands drop to his sides as Shal relaxed her grip on them.
"I'm happy to have the chance to be a friend to you on my own, without the help of your love for Tempest. I've appreciated your attention, really, but I always knew it wasn't directed at me. Now, if there's still some attraction between us, it should be genuine… Besides, Sot introduced me to Jensena and tried to warn me I had some competition. I tried to tell him she's more your type, but-"
"You… you sure have a way of putting a fellow in his place."
"Ren, how do you expect me to react?" Shal tossed her red hair back over her shoulders and extended her hand toward the big man. "Friends… again?"
Ren clasped her hand firmly. "Friends… still… always."
"A good enough friend to help against a crazy old wizard whose actions are no concern of yours?" Shal asked.
Ren didn't answer right away. He waited till they were back at the camp near Tarl, who was just waking. "I don't know just how Yarash is polluting the Stojanow River, but his actions are my concern, too. I can't stand to see that river like that. There's no reason why the Stojanow shouldn't be as pure as that brook over there. Instead, it's as black as night and reeks like some festering wound. It's bothered me since the day I first saw it. My first thought was of a black snake surrounded by dead and dying plants and animals…
"As a thief, I could say it isn't my affair, but I'm beginning to discover that rangering is a deeper part of me than I realized. I can't ignore the state of this river any more than I could ignore that ruined garden back at the gnoll camp. I'm more committed to this mission than I have been to anything we've done so far." Ren offered Tarl some water from his pouch and several strips of jerky, and then he helped Shal roll up her bedding.
Finally he mounted his horse and waited for Shal and Tarl to mount Cerulean. "I've decided to return to rangering," Ren said softly.
Both Tarl and Shal turned in the saddle to face him.
"It's a more difficult lifestyle, but it puts me closer to nature… and to myself. If I had followed my instincts, I probably would have made this trip weeks ago, when I first arrived in Phlan. Just look at that river! It doesn't only look and smell dirty; it's actually toxic. Somewhere upstream, it has to be pure, because dead fish float ashore, and you know nothing can possibly live in that water. It even permeates the land. Look at those gray tree trunks lining the riverbanks-a fire would do less damage."
"Rangering is an honorable profession," said Tarl. "I know not everyone chooses to be like a cleric in their spirituality, but I'd think you'd find comfort in the added fulfillment of being a ranger."
"Yeah. It's kind of a calling, I guess. I mean, I have a natural knack with animals, and once I learned how to trail, I never forgot it. Besides, there's something that drives me to see nature set right."
Ren patted his horse as they rode. "This mare was abused, and her owner said she was worthless. I won her in a dagger toss. I never did anything special-just talked to her and treated her right-and she's been the finest horse I've ever had."
She sleeps around, interjected Cerulean. The mare whinnied, and Shal chuckled.
"How would you know?" Shal asked aloud.
Ren bridled at her words, thinking they were meant for him. "What's wrong with my horse?"
"No, it's… nothing," Shal said quickly. "It's Cerulean. He said…" Shal grinned weakly and then pointed at the mare. "He said your horse sleeps around."
Ren pulled the mare around eyeball to eyeball with Cerulean and said in a loud falsetto, as if he were speaking for the mare. "Oh, yeah? How would you know, big fella? You got-" Ren stopped suddenly in midsentence and motioned for the others to keep quiet. In the stillness that followed, Shal and Tarl could make out what Ren had heard. From not far off came the sounds of something crashing and thrashing through the brush-and the unmistakable snorts and grunts of a party of orcs!
Shal didn't wait for any word from Ren or Tarl. She spurred Cerulean around and headed for a nearby thicket. As the big horse charged, Shal let out an ear-splitting war whoop, Tarl added a bloodcurdling cry of his own and leaned back away from Shal to swing his hammer through the air with a vengeance that made it hum. Five orcs burst from the thicket near where Ren waited. He caught the first of the orcs in his huge, bare hands, stuffed its head under one huge arm, and held tight. "Move and he dies!" Ren hissed to the other four.
Ignoring their companion's plight, the orcs charged forward. Ren slit the creature's thick, meaty neck with Left. As its body slumped to the ground, Ren drew one of his short swords with his free right hand and hacked straight down between the neck and shoulderblade of the nearest orc. Blood from the creature's severed jugular spouted high into the air, and the beast danced crazily in its death spasms. By this time, Cerulean had come full around, and the remaining three orcs were hemmed in between the horses and the thicket.
"I know, Tarl. I know," said Ren, spotting the cleric's staying hand. "You want to talk to them, to parley, to find out what a couple of nice orcs like these would be doing in a place like this. Go right ahead. Ask 'em anything you want." To the orcs, he grunted a threat.
"Thanks. I will." Tarl did not miss the fact that the orc's eyes were glazed yellow, like those of the gnoll priests. "Ask them about Yarash. See if they know anything. Then ask them about the pool-where it is, what they know about the Lord of the Ruins."