"Who," Tarl said, eyes wide, "is that?"
Orlon looked at his best friend, watched him circle his lips with his tongue, and followed his wide eyes to answer his unspoken question: Who is who? And when he saw the answer he rolled his eyes in understanding of Tarl’s reaction.
Standing before a large green tent was a woman, and even fifteen feet away he could see that she was beautiful. She stood five feet four inches tall, her exquisitely shaped body housed in a red blouse with a neckline that dipped generously to reveal her ample cleavage and a ground length black skirt, a hip high slit revealing an attractive leg and petite foot. Framed in curly black hair, her oval face bore an inviting, seductive expression—yet he detected sadness there, too.
"H-hu-hu-h-h-hello!"
All eyes, but Tarl’s, shifted to the three people approaching them.
They walked down the center of the road, but only one showed an air of bravado, while keeping a wary eye on Dark Forest. He was tall and lanky, dressed in copper chainmail vest with gray undershirt, breeches and boots, a broadsword at hip and supply bundle slung over shoulder. The other two looked to be dim witted thirteen-year-old boys, dressed in brown tunics, breeches and boots, carrying crossbows, with overfilled bolt quiver at left hip and shortsword at right.
"The child wanders away from busily shopping mother! I, Ty, the Parson, and the Party, feared you three were lost, never to be found," Ty the Parson said with a flailing of limbs that somehow exuded deep concern.
"S-su-su-s-s-sorry abu-abu-about th-th-that," the man said, coming to a stop before him. "W-wu-wu-w-w-we hu-h-h-hu-had a-a l-lu-lu-l-little t-tru-t-t-tru-trouble f-fu-fu-f-finding ou-ou-our w-wu-wu-way." He bobbed his short brown haired head at his companions, who smiled stupidly.
"Hey," the bushy brown haired boy to his left said, frowning. "We’d've made it here in plenty of time if Telluspett hadn’t convinced Tarftenrott and me to take that left path. That threw our journey all out of whack."\`
"Don’t go trying to lay all the blame on me, Chitintiare," the flowing raven haired boy to his right said, frowning, too. "If you hadn’t convinced us to go north instead of south when we reached this here road—"
"S-su-su-s-s-see wu-wu-what I-I’ve h-h-hu-had t-tu-tu-to d-du-du-d-deal w-wu-wu-with," Tarftenrott butted in to cut off yet another argument he knew was coming between them, but looking from one to the other could not leave it there, saying, "I-I d-du-du-d-don’t s-su-su-s-s-see wu-wu-why w-wu-wu-w-we n-nu-nu-needed tu-tu-to b-bu-bu-b-bring a-a-along thu-thu-these d-du-du-d-d-Dorks a-a-anyway."
Eyes on the two blank faced boys, Orlon felt the confusion written on Tarftenrott’s rather ordinary looking face. Every other member of the Party, even the cook, made sense to him. By Ty the Parson’s own verbose reckoning this journey—this quest was not only going to be dangerous, but would grow ever more dangerous as time passed, as this Tibrarni—whatever grew ever more powerful. Warriors were a safeguard, and the cook guaranteed they were fed. So what would they need these two dullards, armed though they were, for?
"The half empty tea glass reacted to by passing waitress! The craftsman secures another brick to the fortress wall! The Party is nearly complete. I, Ty, the Parson, am overjoyed to see those brought here to protect the One grow in strength as the first part of our twofold quest grows ever nearer its conclusion, though far we must go, and will go as the second part unfolds before us."
Orlon’s eyes shifted to the Parson just as his flailing limbs grew calm, for the nonce, and he frowned. The Party was not complete, even with the new arrivals? That left him wondering who else might be awaiting them…. His mind turned to the "protection" the Party was meant to give him, and he gulped. He giggled with the thought of who he had been protected from thus far, eyes turning to Richtichtiare who stood, arms akimbo, looking Marcol up and down, and saying:
"With your incredible stature you must stand head and shoulders above your fellows…in the Lady’s Knitting Guild." He brought a finger to his chin, eyeing him up and down critically. "Then again…"
"The spotted feline bounds after the horned leaper! Our quest must make haste."
And so it did—for exactly fifteen feet!
This time the sudden stop did not catch Orlon off-guard, though it did his best friend who stumbled to a stop a couple of steps ahead, again. Orlon paid him no notice, as his mind was too wrapped up with the question of what had stopped them…. Then he realized where they had come to a standstill, and his attention turned to the woman standing before the tent.
First thing, he saw something he had not from fifteen feet away. To the left of her was a circle of rocks within which were stacked logs primed to light afire. He shrugged. A campfire did make sense, considering the unusual chill of the night before. His real interest was in the woman whom, he presumed, must be the cause of this new delay. Up close, she was young, no more than twenty five years old, and even more alluring in both pose and expression.
"How they do it is beyond me," Sharna breathed.
Orlon looked at her, was surprised to find such a mixture of emotions—amazement, disgust…pity—on her face. He looked at the Party to see all but three were looking at this mysterious, at least to him, woman in the same way. As for the three, they were young, cocky warriors whose reaction to her reminded him of…
"What…a…babe," Tarl said, fingers flexing.
He glanced at the pudgy Midget and looked to the heavens.
"The coin is flipped! One of two choices must be made, quickly," Ty the Parson said, arms and legs flying about.
All eyes focused on him.
"The lone eye witness is called forth to testify! The team’s captain has authority over the next play! There is only one amongst us who can make this choice. I, Ty, the Parson, speak of the One. Orlon, the Pure, purest of the pure, step forward to see your options."
"Huh?" Orlon said.
"Come," Sharna placed a hand on his back and urged him forward.
Tarl followed, curious as to what was up.
Walking through the crowd of warriors colored Orlon’s cheek a muted pink. Though he kept his eyes on the ground before him, he felt their eyes, to a man, on him, and it was the expectancy he knew was within their eyes that worried him. As if it was not bad enough the fate of the world had been placed on his shoulders, he was now expected to make key decisions on the quest itself…. He wondered what kind of choice he was expected to make.
A firm feminine hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he looked up to find he stood right in front of Ty the Parson. Their eyes met—briefly.
"The mighty python from the tip of its snout to its tail! The green garden snake from the tip of its snout to tip of its tail! Two directions we can take," Ty the Parson said in a flail of limbs that led to a wild spin, ending in a wide-legged stance, back to Midget, staff pointing on down the road. "The road around the forest. Long. Stealing away from us precious time never to be regained. Time lost to us forever at who knows what cost."
Orlon looked down the road. The road Y’ed at the forest’s edge fifteen feet ahead, sending another road looping around it.
"Or the path," another wild spin turned him to the forest, staff pointing at a narrow split in its wall of trees. "Shorter. Leaving before us precious time. Needed time to reach the first of our two goals, obtaining the Holy Pike, and to reach our second goal, wherein the One will use said weapon to defeat the evil seeking to take over our world."