Of Dragons and War III

[Iwant2bafencer]

"Nækos! What in the name of Craig is wrong with you?" Rosaline jumped up and tried to help pull Crin off of him.

[Crin Dalmeiier]

Falcour, sensing danger the instant Crin's wrist was grabbed, was the first to intervene, wrapping an arm around Crin's middle and hauling her forcibly away from the Swordsman. She struggled, but he just dumped her off to the side like a wayward sack of potatoes. Letting out an annoyed grunt, she sprang to her feet and glared at him. He glared straight back for her to calm down, and Ame laid a hand on her shoulder.

"What the HELL do you think you're doing?" Falcour demanded at the Swordsman. "She wasn't even touching you! Get a GRIP, man!"

[Iwant2bafencer]

"Will everyone just calm down?" Rosaline snapped as she stood. "We're going to get no where fast if everyone keeps bickering at each other!" True, she wasn't the best person to be saying this at the time, but she was past caring now. "Nækos are you alright?" She questioned, though there was still an edge in her voice.

[Miri Belakai]

Quietly, so as not to attract attention, Miri came up beside Senyik. She had no wish to be tossed as Crin was, so she would wait until the halfling was sane again before approaching him.

[Swordsman]

The instant Crin's weight was removed, Nækos sprang to his feet, boot knife in hand. "Let us review the facts, Mr. Gideon. To begin with, I am seated on Onyx, watching the borders of the road, checking every leaf that blows the wrong way. Next, I am having visions of every other thing. Then, I am on my back in the road, and there is a hand in my face. When I remove it, Crin is suddenly attacking me. What kind of reaction do you expect from me?"

[Crin Dalmeiier]

"I wasn't holding my hand in your face! It was above you, but not in your face--and you attacked first!" Crin shot, red-faced for exasperation. "And I was talking to you the whole time, but I guess it's kill first, ask questions later." She pushed a hand through her hair and jumped back onto Buttercup. "If anybody needs me, I'll be waiting down the road a ways until our wonderful leader gets his sanity back."

"Crin's back," Talmour muttered in an undertone to his brother.

"Bloody hell, I'm too drunk to work this out," Falcour sighed. "Nobody's at fault here--just a bunch of reactions. Let's just mount up and keep moving. Somebody else deal with this. I've got a broody Dalmei'er on my hands."

Sighing yet again to himself, he leapt into his own saddle and trotted up the road a bit, leaving the rest of the group to settle matters.

[Iwant2bafencer]

Rosaline shot Nækos a glare. Before she moved over to untie Shadowmaker, mumbling under her breath.

"Yes Rose, I'm fine, thank you for caring. That was really good of you, what a friend." She grumbled quietly.

She rubbed Shadowmaker's neck quickly before she swung up into her saddle and waited next to Rylus.

[Swordsman]

Nækos stood silently for a moment, then looked slowly around. "Rosaline...yes, I am alright. Thank you. I have many things to consider now." His eyes came to rest on the dozing queen beneath the tree. "Let us continue north now."

[Iwant2bafencer]

Rosaline couldn't help her jaw falling open after Nækos turned from her.

"You're welcome." She replied a little awkwardly.
"Zelda," She called gently.

Zelda's head jerked up. "Hmm?"

"Let's get going, we can probably stop in a couple more hours." She smiled breifly.

[Moonitic]

Even as they climbed onto their horses, one remained empty...Meekal's. He was so focused that he hadn't heard the commotion, & continued further in his exploration.

[Darion McNair]

With no one around of any threat, Darion made his way back to the group. He was still as confused as ever. Passing out was not something the Swordsman often did. He climbed back onto his horse without saying much.

"All Clear." he mentioned to the group.

[Swordsman]

"Where is Meekal?" Nækos asked.

"He went off into the woods," Miri told him.

[Iwant2bafencer]

Rosaline swung off her horse.

"I'll get him Nækos." She cut in, if he fell off his horse, there was no telling where else he might blackout again.

[Crin Dalmeiier]

Common sense had won over before Crin had gotten very far, luckily, so the redhead was only a bit up the road when Falcour, having spurred his horse to a heavy canter, caught up with her. He pulled alongside her without saying a word.

"I should just leave," she sighed after it was apparent that he wasn't going to say anything.

The defeatist attitude caught him by surprise. "What?"

Crin pushed at her forehead, where a headache was already developing. "He's made it obvious enough. I'm not welcome here. First, I have to swear my allegiance to him, and then when I try a simple field medic test, he attacks me and then blames it all on me. I should just go. He doesn't need me to find the dragons. He'll defeat the Russic all on his own. I have things to do--a life to live."

It occurred to Falcour, then, that this was not a side of Crin that he had seen before. Normally, she just did whatever she needed to do--hunted with the parties, cooked her share of meat for the clan, traveled to Arconia, helped out in Arconia (apparently at her own cost; being "locked up" in a tower had made her considerably grouchy). She'd welcomed the gypsies to Arconia and had even, behind the scenes, made sure that they were comfortable. His question to her the night before, about what she wanted to do after the war, must have really jarred her into thought.

"This isn't my life," she continued now, unaware of the track his thoughts were taking. "From day one it's been, Crin, do this. Crin, do that. Every time I try to do something on my own to help somebody, it backfires on me." She glared back down the road a bit, to where the group was still looking for Meekal the Not-So-Daft. "And both times lately it's been because of him and all my fault." She turned and looked about to gallop off again, but Falcour caught her wrist. "Don't try and stop me. I'm sick of this."

"Crin, the Russic are coming to take this whole continent, and most are still skeptical. We need everybody here to help fight them."

"The continent will fall." Crin's eyes blazed so harshly that Falcour nearly released his grip. "There won't be an Arconia to save, or a Zarconia, or anything for that matter. The Russic will come and they will crush every single bone they can find. And they won't stop at that. They'll poison our water supply. They'll set traps in our land. Even if we DO survive, we'll walk around for years treating children who've lost legs to those traps, or finding even more dead bodies than there is space. There won't be personal graves--by the end of the war we'll just be throwing bodies into pits together. It's not going to be a war, Falcour, it's going to be genocide."

'I'm still way too drunk to deal with this,' Falcour decided for himself, but didn't let go of Crin's wrist. "We have a chance with the dragons--which is your area of expertise."

"My left foot, it is. The Swordsman's the one in charge here. Let HIM find the dragons." Crin jerked her wrist from his grasp and turned to gallop off, but even drunk he was too quick to be fooled like that. He snatched her clean from Buttercup's back and hauled her in front of him, locking her in place with his arms. "Let me go." Her voice was stone, her expression glacial as she twisted to look at him.

He shrugged. "Beat me up if you like. I'm not letting you go anywhere. You're almost drunk, and you're quite near insane. And I'm not going to let you go until you calm down." For a moment, she glared so fiercely that Falcour thought she might take him up off on his offer. After an eternity, however, she relaxed and sighed. "We're going to wait here for the group, and when they get here, we're just going to travel with them. If the Swordsman passes out again, let him. Keep away from him when you're like this."

Grumpy, she looked years younger than she had a moment before. "I'm not going to apologize to him."

"Good. He doesn't deserve an apology. Now, calm down." Wary, Falcour unclamped his arms to tie Buttercup's reins to his saddle bag. She moved to get back on her horse, but his arm prevented her. "No--you're staying with me until I am certain you're not going to run off."

For a moment, he thought he saw the timid beginnings of a smile. "You have to sleep sometime, you know."

"But Talmour, Ame, and I don't all have to sleep at the same time. Of course, a couple of days on that schedule, and we'll probably end up killing you. Escape at your own risk."

She sighed and slumped back against him. "I really hate you sometimes."

"Aw, I love you, too." He reached over and pried the book out of her saddlebags. "Now, read up while we wait."

--
NOTE: They're about 500 yards up the road, so it won't take three months to catch up or anything.

[Lord Tellurine]

The thick foliage of the forest irritated Meekal. How was he to find the person who attacked the Swordsman if he couldn’t see the attacker through the trees? His hand was firmly gripping his weapon. He brushed aside a large branch of a flowering bush he didn’t recognize and took a few steps past it.

That’s when he fell.

Where the ground ended he hadn’t noticed, but now he knew he was falling. He tumbled down a steep hillside and landed in a small stream, bruising his right arm on the small rocks that water was rippling over. He quickly stood and surveyed the area. He had fallen down a small cliff. It wasn’t so steep that he couldn’t climb back up it, but it was going to be difficult. He looked across the stream and saw a clearing and in the middle of the clearing there was a tower.

It wasn’t a white gleaming tower of hope, nor a black foreboding tower of terror, but a small run-down tower that was in need of some maintenance, or at least a makeover. The tower had to be no more than three flights high and it was no wider than a small cottage. It had single door (that Meekal could see.) and a single window at the top. The grounds around the tower looked unkempt and not treaded upon for years. Just across the stream from Meekal there was a small wooden sign hanging delicately from a worn down post.

It read: “Here lies the great Singing Sword of Sheboygan.”

Under that it said: “Do not enter.”

Meekal took a moment to contemplate that, then using none of his better judgment; he crossed the stream and walked past the sign, towards the tower.

As he walked through the tall grass surrounding the building he saw another sign. This one had not survived the ravages of time and was lying face up amongst the weeds. He brushed away some plant life and read, “This tower is the final resting place of the great Singing Sword of Sheboygan.” Under that it read, “Please, do not enter.”

Meekal continued up to the door of the tower, his curiosity still peaked. The door hung on a couple of rusted hinges and after a few good tugs on the handle, Meekal was able to open the door and survey the ground floor of the tower. The ground floor was just that: A ground floor. The only other thing in there was a winding staircase leading to the top of the tower.

There was a sign posted at the wall where the stairwell started. The script was fanciful and it read: “Upstairs is the eternal resting place for the great Singing Sword of Sheboygan.” Then it said in much larger, bolder print, “Do not enter!”

Meekal walked past the sign and up the stairs. It ended just below the third floor where it was blocked by a small wooden door. A good shove from Meekal and whatever was holding the door closed gave way and he ascended onto the third floor.

The dust that had been collecting in the room over the years had been upset by Meekal’s forced entry and the room was thick with dust particles clearly evident in the streaming sunlight through the single window. The door Meekal climbed through was just before the window and his line of sight followed the stream of sunlight from the window across the room to the small pedestal that held a surprising gleaming sword.

There was a sign on the pedestal under the sword that read, “Here lays the great Singing Sword of Sheboygan. Killer of thieves, winner of battles, and scourge of any who meet it in battle.” Under that it read, “Do not touch!”

Meekal sheathed his own weapon and grabbed the sword by the handle. At first it seemed uncomfortable and unwieldy, but in a flash it seemed to mold itself into his grasp and become comfortable and almost an extension of his arm. He swung it through the air effortlessly, despite the fact it was larger than any other sword he had ever used.

He mused aloud, “I wonder why you’re called ‘the singing sword?’”

From nowhere, but at the same time, everywhere, the calm of the tower was shattered by a smooth baritone voice singing out:

A singing sword I am!
What you read is not a sham!
I sing, that is true,
I’ll kill people too!
I do it because I can!

Meekal immediately went to drop the sword, startled by the ethereal voice that filled the room, but he was unable to. Whether he did not have the will to drop it, or the sword would not let him drop it, he was not sure, but he stood there staring at the sword for a few minutes. Finally, he said to it, “You can sing.”

The baritone voice replied:

I sing like a little bird!
I won’t speak a single word.
If I’m flat I’ll regret,
But I’m sharp you can bet
I have to be: I’m a sword.

Meekal stood dumbfounded. He looked the lustrous sword over from top to bottom. He wondered where the voice was coming from. This was certainly a sword like no other. Meekal wondered if he could take it. He hesitated, but then asked the sword, “Can I take you?”

The sword answered:

You took me from where I lie,
A finer sword you couldn’t buy!
I’m yours to keep,
I come really cheap!
And I’m yours until you die!

Meekal blinked and thought. Then he exclaimed, “This is so great! Wait till I show the others!” He raced down the stairway and out the tower. He sprinted across the clearing, not taking the time to notice the skeleton lying just below the window among the tall grasses. The skeletal bones were broken in a way that indicated that the person had fallen to his death. It was the great Singing Sword of Sheboygan’s last owner.

[Iwant2bafencer]

Rosaline had made her way quietly into the thick forest but Meekal wasn't as easy to find as she thought. She looked for at least five minutes and was walking back to call the others to come help her, when she heard her name to her right.

"Rosaline!" Meekal called cheerfully.

Meekal, where have you been? We're ready to . ." It was then she noticed the gleaming sword in his hand. "Where did you get that?"

"In the tower back there." He grinned, throwing his thumb over his shoulder.

"You didn't."

"I did."

"You couldn't."

"I could."

"You wouldn't."

"I sure would."

"Meekal please please tell me you're joking, you didn't go in that tower."

"Yup, I did." He grinned and began walking the little ways back to the group.

Rosaline proceeded to rub her temples as they pushed their way back to the road.

"Where'd you get that?" Darion asked, not familiar with Meekal's new sword.

Rosaline turned to her brother. "Meekal went into the tower."

Rylus' jaw dropped. "He didn't."

"I did." Meekal shrugged.

Most of the group looked at them like they were crazy.

Growing up, Rylus and Rosaline's parents had told them stories about the tower, let's just say that they weren't happy ones and that ever since, the two never dared go near it.

[Crin Dalmeiier]

"Is that anything similar to Roy's Rapping Rapiers?" Talmour asked curiously, walking up to the King of Muu and examining the sword critically. "Crin and I met Roy on the way through Delianth. We don't think it was actually the rapiers rapping--Roy was terrible at improv. That, and we could see his lips moving."

He looked questioningly at Rosaline. "This sword won't rap and compare me to a beanstalk, will it? Because I really think I'm more of a moonflower vine. You don't even want to know what it said about Crin."

"Back to the sword?" Ame prompted.

[Crin Dalmeiier]

"Not-so-daft kings and mysterious towers?" Talmour asked aloud. "Was there a chick with super-long hair there? I'm after a damsel in distress myself."

Ame felt the need to elbow him.

[Lord Tellurine]

“Rosaline and I have been to that tower,” began Rylus, slowly and deliberately, “but we had the sense to heed the warnings and not go in.” Rosaline shot him a look of annoyance at his insulting the King of Muu. “We went home and asked Dad what the tower was and he told us it held great evil.”

Meekal bit down lightly on his bottom lip. “Actually,” he said quietly, “it was hardly decorated.”

“Meekal,” Rosaline snapped, “the evil inside the tower could be that sword you picked up. Did you ever wonder why someone would leave a sword in a tower in the middle of nowhere?”

Meekal gulped. “It hadn’t really occurred to me.”

“Of course it didn’t,” said Darion suddenly, stepping forward. “A truly great sword doesn’t get passed down through the years. Some are placed over mantels, or shrines, to forever give it thanks for its duty to the owner. It could be that this sword was placed there as a tribute.”

Rosaline looked at Darion. “Then why have the signs and the rumors saying the place held evil?”

Darion smiled at the simplicity of the question. “To keep thieves away,” he answered.

“Let me get this straight,” interrupted Meekal sharply. “Either I’m stupid for picking up an evil sword, or I’m a thief smearing the memory of a great weapon.” The rest of the group fell silent as they let that realization sink in.

“Right not,” interjected the Swordsman, “you’re holding us up. Let’s get going.” Everyone else climbed onto his or her individual horse. “Meekal, when you become King you will not want people critiquing every move you make. When you make a bold choice, you have to stick by it.”

Meekal thought about that for a moment then asked, “So I made the right choice taking this sword?”

“I didn’t say that.” He turned away briskly.

“It can sing,” offered Meekal, holding the gleaming sword up. “It had a beautiful baritone voice.”

The Swordsman didn’t hear that though. He was already on his horse, riding away.

Meekal sighed and said to nobody, “Not a music lover, I guess.”

[Crin Dalmeiier]

By the time the rest of the group reached them, Crin was back on her own horse, a book propped open in front of her. Falcour was chewing on a piece of jerky and watching out to make sure that nobody was going to sneak up on them. When the Swordsman approached, both straightened and Crin slid the book back into her packs.

"Let's get this dog and pony show on the road," Ame muttered to her as Crin slid back into the group between Ame and Miri. "We've been joined by a daft king with a singing sword, and apparently our leader is having fainting spells. Right about now would be a good time for a horse to get a thorn in its hoof."

"Would you stop jinxing us?" Crin asked her old friend, and the two jerked as Buttercup stumbled a bit. However, the horse seemed to be fine. "See? You caused that."

"Oh, calm down, Twitchy."

"Certainly, Doll."

Talmour, riding in front of the pair, groaned. "Oh, don't start with the nicknames now!"

Ame grinned mischievously. "If you say so...Beanpole."

"I think," Miri observed to Senyik, watching the three gypsies, "that this might be a long trip..."

Ame turned to Crin with her eyebrows high. "Ms. Belakai doesn't have a nickname yet."

"You're right! Whatever shall we call her?"

The two turned expectantly towards Miri, bearing identical evil grins.