Updated!
Sorry for the huger than usual delay...holiday season and such. Excuses, excuses, I know.
On Widdit!
--------------------------
As the living ocean of twisted, ant-like people (or were they person-like ants?) descended on the adventurers, time seemed to slow. A warm springtime breeze swirled around the group as they pressed their backs into the bark of the tree known as The Encampment, as if hoping it would absorb them into itself. Somehow, impossibly, the noise of that breeze in the leaves and limbs of the tree raised over the nightmarish pounding of hundreds of chitinous feet, yet did so without being loud. It sounded almost like music, of a sort; a soft sighing refrain that reminded one hauntingly of a song you knew, but could never quite remember the name for.
And as the inhuman swarm reached the great burled trunk of The Encampment...it parted and swept around it. Not one set of hideous compound eyes set into humanlike sockets seemed to notice the group as they huddled, astounded. It took several minutes for the insectile tide to pass by. Several more minutes after that for them to decide they had lost their quarry...and another few minutes watching them all trundling back towards the woods, satisfied that the intruders had been repelled.
There was silence long after the hissing patter of their feet had faded. Reverentially, Mark put another coin in the hollow of the tree's trunk. This time, everyone else followed suit.
They rested. Semaki nimbly scaled the tree's trunk to sit on one of the lower, thicker branches. Quadim followed her with equal aplomb. Shayuri, still feeling a bit weak from the sprint, sank to sit at the tree's base. Mark paced impatiently, occasionally checking his sword.
"Mark?" Shayuri asked presently. "How did you know? How does this tree...work?"
Mark paused and gave the sorceress an unreadable look. "I don't know how exactly," he admitted, slipping off a glove and scrubbing his fingers through his short brown-blonde hair. "But the stories of The Encampment are specific. It's a place of sanctuary. The tree guards that." He shrugged.
Semaki spoke in her quiet, mellifluous voice then. "There are ways to bring trees intelligence to rival or exceed that of men. And to give them magics as well. Elven rituals that I doubt were taught widely to others, but may have been used here in ages past. The tree is older than it looks I think."
Mark patted the trunk. "The hows and whys are beside the point anyway. What's important is that it happened at all. I think Zoyster will be most interested to hear our re..."
"Again, the wizard," Semaki said dismissively. "I did not agree to this for his sake. Moreover, he failed to warn us of these dangers."
"He may not have known," Shayuri replied, trying to head off the confrontation. "The mantis and spiders...I think they're pretty recent. And if these...deformed ant-things breed at the same rate real ones do, they may be relatively recent as well."
Mark nodded fiercely. "Of course he didn't know! How would he have?"
Semaki shrugged. "You may be right. I'm just used to wizards who are a bit more competent."
The warrior's face turned a shade of reddish purple, and he sputtered. Semaki went on as if nothing were happening.
"...after all, it could just as easily have been a community of illithid or thralls in that wood, not one day's march from his stronghold. I would think he would keep a closer eye on his surroundings."
"Listen
elf," Mark spat in a fury. "When the mind flayers came up from the ground with their armies, killing and enslaving all before them,
where were YOU?" He began to pace under Semaki's branch, glaring up at her like a cat stalking a bird that stays maddeningly out of reach. "Zoyster, and others like him, risked and sometimes even gave their lives to save the few wretches they could, and I will NOT hear you insulting him! Say what you like, but at least he has acted; not stayed hidden away in some misbegotten forest somewhere, laughing and dancing as the world burns!"
Shayuri stood up, palms out. "Mark, calm down, please..."
Mark turned to look at her, his rage undimmed. One accusing finger jabbed in her direction. "And you...you're scarcely any better! Siding with
her over Zoyster! And given the chance to stay here and work with the Resistance...to make a difference!...you choose instead to go to the elves!"
The sorceresses face hardened. "I have very good reasons for that."
"Call it what you like," Mark sneered. "I know cowardice when I see it."
There was an almost silent plod as Semaki dropped to the ground, her face set in a furious mold, her eyes narrowed and her hand on the hilt of her sword. Shayuri's eyes widened and mouth twisted into a grimace. "How dare you?" she asked, almost conversationally. She began walking towards Mark, quicksilver eyes fastened tightly on his blue. And despite her being unarmed, and her slender form hardly threatening or muscular, there was something in her anger that unfurled around her like a set of dark, invisible wings, casting an almost tangible pall. Her lips peeled back to show her teeth as she spat.
"How DARE you accuse me of that?!"
To his credit, Mark did not fade back under the sorceresses wrath. "What else can I accuse someone of, who chooses to flee rather than fight?"
Shayuri stopped, mainly because to continue forward would mean plowing straight into Mark. While her voice diminished in rancor, her eyes lost none of their anger. "There are many ways to flee, Mark. And many ways to fight. My journey to Dieresis is how I mean to fight. I cannot oppose the illithid alone, and so I am going to enlist their aid. Is this too complicated to understand?"
Mark's eyes flicked to Semaki, then back. "No," he replied tightly. "But tell me if
this is too difficult a concept. The Resistance has tried contacting the elves before! More than once! And each time it's failed to produce any kind of aid, any kind of recognition. What makes you think you'll be any different?"
One of Shayuri's hands strayed to the pouch at her side, where the hard lump of Shankara's crystal message sat.
Do I trust him that much? she wondered to herself. And she shook her head. "I cannot make promises, nor assurances that I can get results where others have failed," she said smoothly. "Though I think the presence and support of Semaki will prove beneficial."
Again, Mark glanced at Semaki. "No. No, the fight is here, can't you see? It's now! Even if the elves for some reason DO decide to help, they think in years! We're struggling in the here and now, and can't wait for that! Going to the elves, pressing them...I still see it as an excuse to find safer lands. Is it a coincidence that the one place you want to be is also the one place the mind flayers have no hold over? What good can you do there?"
"What good can we do HERE?" Shayuri snarled. "Join with Zoyster? Live like a cockroach under the ground? Hiding and hoping that someone else will take care of the problem before they find us? What good does that do anyone? Don't you see, Mark? Zoyster is pinned down! He can't move, he can't act...for fear of being noticed. And it's only a matter of time before he's found. Tell me what he would have done yesterday if we hadn't conveniently been nearby to lead these scouts astray! All it will take is
one ill turn of fate, and he's done for!"
Mark's face went greyish at the words, and he glared at Shayuri. "A coward might flee a ship merely because it's sinking," he began, but the sorceress cut him off.
"No, Mark. A coward, by nature, is passive. Afraid to act! Courage demands action, no matter the risk. Now tell me...what is acting here? Crouching under the earth and praying for a miracle, with the mighty Zoyster? Or striking out across the hostile wilderness in the thin hope that the battle may yet be turned? Let me make myself perfectly clear." Again fury rose off of Shayuri in sheets thick enough that they seemed almost visible, like heat haze over masonry on a summer's day. "I am not fleeing this war. I mean to go into the world and bend my every effort to binding friend to friend, ally to ally. And I swear..." She paused, then went on defiantly, her eyes taking on a fierce gleam. "I swear
by my Name that when I return, it will be at the head of an army that will SHATTER the illithid! I will
scour the world of their infection and send the few that survive scrabbling so deep into the earth that they'll never again see the surface!"
"Fine words, but do you think Zoyster feels any differently?"
The fire that had filled Shayuri faded. She half-turned away from Mark. "I do not presume to know how he feels. However, if he does, then he's chosen a highly suspect course of action. Or should I say, inaction."
"He's doing more than you know," Mark insisted. "He's doing the best he can. There's a lot of people who owe more than their lives to him."
"I was a slave to the illithid for a year," Shayuri returned gently. "In the end, only death freed me. I know better than most what's at stake." When she looked at Mark again, her eyes were haunted. "Do you really think I don't want to hide?" she asked softly. "Do you think a night goes by without me wanting to pick someplace far from anywhere, craft a meager home, and try to escape notice? Mark, there is nothing that frightens me more...
nothing...than being captured again by the illithid. I admit, it frightens me to know that the road I'm on will eventually, inevitably, lead me back to face them. And every day we spend traveling is another day for us to be discovered. Their agents are widespread by now..." Shayuri looked away from Mark again, and shivered slightly. "But I will not be ruled by that fear. I
will not be! Surrendering to it would be giving them control over me again, and that I will never do."
Semaki came over and put a hand on Shayuri's shoulder. The sorceress nodded gratefully, then met Mark's eyes again. "So accuse me of vanity. Accuse me of arrogance." A short, humorless laugh. "Accuse me of madness, if you like. All of those are things that I possess, in some measure. But not cowardice. Never that."
This time it was Mark who looked away. "My duty is to the Resistance," he said stalwartly.
"Then our paths divide at the enclave," Semaki returned.
There was nothing more to be said. Mana and Quadim, silent throughout, exchanged glances but didn't speak. A wind blew in the branches of The Encampment, making a soothing surssuration...but if it carried any real meaning, there were none present who could interpret it. The traceless salve was again applied to their soles, and they struck out for the enclave of the Resistance, following their old trail so that the magic of the salve would erase those earlier tracks and leave only the trail they left when first coming to The Encampment on their way to Zoyster several days ago. The circle was complete. The enclave, for now at least, was safe.
By the time they returned, the sun was setting. Standing beside the waterfall that guarded the enclave's entrance was a tall thin figure that bowed at their approach. Mark knelt. Semaki turned her back.
"Welcome back," Zoyster said in his aged voice. "Come inside, please. Tell me of your journey."
Semaki didn't say anything, nor move, nor in any way acknowledge that the wizard had spoken, or was indeed there at all. Mark got to his feet and went to Zoyster's side. Shayuri hesitated, unsure what to do.
Zoyster signed and let his arms back down to his sides. "At the very least," he said, suddenly sounding weary, "come and accept your reward for the service you have done for us."
Shayuri stepped forward, but Semaki half-turned and spat, "I want nothing of yours."
Again, the sorceress hesitated...but with an apologetic look at Semaki, she continued forward. "It'll only be a moment, Semaki," Shayuri explained uncomfortably. "We'll need all the help we can get to reach Diaresis."
The elf did not respond as Mark, Shayuri and Zoyster vanished into the enclave.
Once inside, Mark and Zoyster excused themselves, leaving Shayuri in the library. It was several minutes before Zoyster returned, alone, and carrying a sturdy, well-made but otherwise unremarkable leather backpack.
"This, and its contents, are for you," the wizard explained, holding it out. "For you all. I, and those I safeguard, owe your group a debt for your aid."
Shayuri nodded and held out the crossbow she'd recieved before. "Thanks."
Zoyster waved it away. "Keep it. Weapons like that will do us little good here." A wan smile curved beneath his large white mustache. "Should we be forced to fight, then we will have already lost. It will do you more good, I think. Keep it."
"Then...thanks again." She took the backpack.
"Don't be too quick to thank me," Zoyster added, a mysterious glint in his eye. "I am being generous, but not without an ulterior motive."
Shayuri's eyes narrowed slightly. "What do you mean?"
"Mark will be coming with you to Diaresis. The task you have set before yourself is a difficult one, and you'll need our help." His bearded head nodded as he studied Shayuri. "As, I believe, we will need yours, should you succeed." Zoyster waved a hand helplessly. "We've tried to reach the elves before. Never with any success. They have not exactly turned our requests for aid down outright, but their deliberations take a long time...time I fear we don't have. Between that and the internal politics of the court, I fear our requests may not have reached the ears that they need to." He paused, scrutinizing Shayuri anew. "What makes you think you can succeed when so many have failed?"
Again, Shayuri could feel the weight of Shankara's stone in her pouch. But anyone could deliver it. It didn't have to be her. What would happen if Zoyster learned of it, and of what message it contained? Would he entrust it to this inexperienced band? Or take it for himself, to bring before the lords of the elves...and shut the others out. She shook her head. "I think Semaki's presence will help. They are more likely to listen when an elf is among us...and Semaki is not an ordinary elf." She felt sure that was true, though wasn't entirely sure in what way Semaki was unique. The tattoos meant something...but what, she had no idea.
Zoyster nodded slowly, his grey eyes never leaving Shayuri. "Perhaps. In any event, you have the well-wishing of everyone here, including myself. I regret that what you will find in that pack is the most resources we can afford to part with, but I do hope you find them useful. Also...I recieved word from a messenger not a few hours ago that a friend of yours...the transmuted halfling...had turned up with a caravan belonging to the Spineless Order." His mouth twisted in distaste. "They reported him to be in good health, and accompanying them. As I understand it, you should be able to pick up their trail several hours to the south of here." One bushy eyebrow wiggled as he winked. "I am given to understand that they're headed for Umlaut. May the gods watch over you all."
Mark walked back in, looking stoic and determined. Shayuri looked at him for a long moment. Was he a friend? An ally, most certainly...but a friend? His first allegience was to the Resistance. He would help them as long as it was in the best interests of the Resistance. It would be wise, she decided, to remember that. She turned back to Zoyster and bowed her head to murmur thanks. Then she and Mark exited the enclave. Semaki and Quadim waited outside. The elf's nose wrinkled at the sight of the backpack, but she said nothing, preferring to pretend that no such thing existed.
To Mark she said, "I did not expect to see you again."
"I'm coming with you," the warrior replied evenly. "This affects the Resistance, and I'm to serve as embassy to the elves."
Semaki looked at Shayuri. "And you?" she asked archly.
Shayuri met her gaze. "Nothing has changed for me. I represent only myself." For some reason the words sounded terribly lonely to her as she said them.
Semaki nodded approvingly. "And Piklum?"
"He's with a caravan south of here. They're already past, but we can pick up the trail. They'll be expecting us." She hesitated, then went on. "The caravan belongs to the Spineless."
Semaki only nodded, unconcerned. Mark rubbed his finger uncomfortably, remembering Piklum's unfortunate transformation. "Is that safe?" he asked.
"Who can say?" Shayuri replied. "Not much is known about the order. I imagine if we show proper respect and don't antagonize them, we should be all right. Same with most mages."
Mark swallowed, but squared his shoulder and nodded.
Semaki waved them forward. "The light is fading," she said. "We should go before it's too dark to find the track tonight. Come."
She and Quadim jogged off into the deepening twilight. A moment later Shayuri and Mark followed suit.
They left no tracks; no signs of passage. The waterfall burbled on, unspoiled and unseen. Just another peaceful glen in an empty wood.
