Trish was embarrassed at the fact she hadn’t even noticed Rone's eyes before now.
“Yes, yes, I’ve heard it all before, glowing eyes in the dark as they steal your children or some shit. Look, we just need to buy the lady here a weapon.
Fang, sensing Rone’s growing agitation, trotted over and sat down next to him.
“Well, now, what's this?” The dwarf asked, looking at Fang.
“My friend,” Is all Rone said as he rubbed Fang’s head in response.
“Then ye can’t be all bad. Everyone knows a Blink wolf don’t lend themselves to just anybody.
“Thanks, I guess,” Rone replied.
“Don’t mind my father, he has the manners of a dwarf,” Craiger said with a smile.
“Because I am a dwarf, you big lug. But he’s right; I meant no offense boy. Just testing ye ore is all.”
Rone forced a smile and nodded his acceptance of the smith's attempt at an apology.
“So, what kinda weapon ye be needing little lady? A sword or perhaps a nice bow?” Trish walked over to the tables and began looking over the finely crafted weapons that were displayed for sale.
After a few moments, she picked up a short sword and held it in her hand. Surprisingly the weight felt good in her small hands. Not too heavy, but not so light as to feel like a weakness.
“This one is nice,” she said with a smile.
“And a fine choice too,” The dwarf said, smiling in return.
“That there is a mithril blade, made from the finest ore me kin ever dug up. It’ll cut through stone and bone alike.” He said, making a chopping motion with his hand.
“Is that the one you favor, my dear?” Traijen asked as he pulled out his coin purse.
“It is, and don’t call me dear.” She answered with a scowl.
“How much for the blade master dwarf?” Traijen asked, stepping up to the table.
The blacksmith stroked his beard as if thinking about it, then leaned forward, looking at Rone.
“Take it; ye showed me boy here a kindness that doesn’t happen too often in Crag Moor. So, it’s only fair I do ye the same.” Rone bowed slightly and thanked him.
“And boy, the names Peckle,”
“I know,” said Rone with a mischievous grin. The companions thanked him again as Rone and Traijen shook Craiger's hand.
“I hope we will meet again,” Craiger said as they bid him farewell and headed towards the city gate.
Once outside the city, they made their way to the stables to purchase horses’ for their journey. Rone selected a beautifully painted stallion; whose white splotches gave the appearance of a flame running from its nose down the neck and shoulders.
Traijen picked a mare that was as black as coal, except for the mane and tail, which were as white as Fang's fur. Trish ended up with a tan-colored mare that was somewhat smaller than those of her companions, but just as sturdy and beautiful as either of the other mounts.
The companions fitted their packs onto the backs of their horses and started off towards the east. They would follow the merchant's road to Dusk Haven, and if their luck holds out, they could be there in four days. Rone preferred to travel through the wilds, but he knew the road was not much slower. And they would stand less chance of finding danger if they went that way.
He knew Traijen could handle any threat they might have faced in the wilds, but he found himself feeling less than enthused about seeing how Trish would fare.
He may not particularly like her, but she is in his care now. And strangely enough, he finds himself wanting to protect her.
14
The village of Briarthorn was eerily quiet as the Thorn Caller Rangers’ all prepared to attend their leader’s funeral. Tobias was reading over the eulogy he has written, while Decker and Kellet seen to the final touches on Max’s burial box.
Sagina couldn’t hold back her tears as she wove the final wrappings of silk cloth around Max’s body. Even to the birds and forest animals were silent, as they went about their foraging outside the Bramble walls of the village.
As the preparations were nearing completion, Tobias entered the main house and stopped to talk to Dirk Bansal, the oldest of their order.
“In my one hundred and ten years on this earth, I’ve never seen Agnar in such a state Tobias. The poison is spreading quicker now that the springs have carried it through the forest. Add Max’s murder to that, and this forest is feeling less like home and more like a graveyard.”
Tobias placed a hand on his worried friend's shoulder to comfort him,
“I know my friend, but we have seen hard times before. This will be no different. We will find a way to save our home. We have to, or Max’s death will have been for nothing, and I won’t allow that.”
His words did offer some comfort to the old ranger, but it also had a tinge of hollowness to it.
“Well, let us hope whatever it was Max sent Rone after, it will bring an end to this nightmare.”
“Yes, let's hope so,” Tobias replied coldly. Something about his tone did not sit well with Dirk, but he figured today was not the day for questioning it. All morning, members of their order had been arriving from across Earthera. From the hidden scout posts of the Dread Wastes to the Mountains of Dragons Run far to the north.
As more and more of their Order filed into the main house to pay their respects, Tobias slipped outside to the porch with Kellet. They were lost in conversation as they shared memories of their beloved leader when Drake Talbot came running up to them.
“Tobias, there is a cleric at the gate. He says the Arch-Mage of Crag Moor sent him.” Tobias turned to Kellet, whose face only reflected his own curiosity.
“Do you think Rone sent them?” Kellet asked as they headed towards the gate.
“I don’t know, but if he did, they are too damn late,” Tobias said as he leaped from the porch and headed towards the village entrance.
As they neared the wall, Kellet weaved a spell with his hand that would open the bramble wall allowing the cleric to enter. The poor fellow had barely stepped inside when Tobias began demanding answers.
“What are you doing here, priest? Who sent you?” Tobias demanded immediately. The cleric stared at him calmly, waiting for a chance to reply.
“Well?” Tobias asked, sounding even angrier.
“Tobias, give the man a chance to answer.” Kellet scolded, causing Tobias’s face to flush red but putting a halt to his bombardment of questions.
“I am Kelenvor, a cleric of the Crimson Tower and a friend of Maximillian Foreswhisper. I would aid him if I can.” The man answered as he bowed humbly.
“There is no aid for Max. He was murdered in the middle of the night by a DokalFae dog. You wasted a trip.” Tobias said as he stared coldly at the cleric.
“It is not a waste if I choose not to let it be,” Kelenvor replied with a matter of fact tone. If the news of Max’s death disturbed him at all, you would not have known it by his calm demeanor.
“Forgive my friend, he is having a hard time with Max’s passing,” Kellet said, extending his hand in greeting.
It’s understandable,” Was all Kelenvor said with a small bow of his head.
“How did you hear of Max’s ailment?” Kellet asked respectfully.
“A member of your order came to the tower seeking a meeting with the Arch-historian, who, in turn, consulted the Arch-mage. After their meeting, I was asked to come and offer what aid I may. I knew Maximillian and was more than happy to try. I’m truly sorry I was too late to do so.”
“Did the ranger who came to the tower say what he was after?” Tobias asked curiously.