Of Bones and Blood
An original work of fiction by Alek Wise. Any characters resembling real people in this work are pure coincidence, as are any events or situations relating to real life. Please feel free to comment (constructive, positive comments only please. Negative comments will be disregarded) at your leisure by emailing me directly at alekwise84 (at) gmail (dot) com. Enjoy!
Chapter Six Comforts, Wishes and Wants
Even the powerful warmth of the sun could not chase away the dark scarring Evoran had endured. He had followed his mother's directions. He had returned the dove that had flown so very far from any noble city. Then he had been captured, accused of thievery and beaten. The image of Tholwilde's fist striking at him lapsed over and over again in his mind—the sour expression of hate on the man's face, and the bitter taste of blood on Evoran's lips. Evoran did not know him and did not care to. He had tried to explain his innocence, but Talis' resolve seemed unwavering.
Evoran watched from the window of the bedchamber as the sun peeked from beyond the mountains. He craved its warmth and the light that would chase away the shadows. He had spent the night sitting in a high-backed chair that faced the window of the bedchamber. Lying in the bed made him feel most uncomfortable. He wanted nothing more than to escape the madness of Mystvale and return home. Even the comforts the Lord's brother offered seemed tainted with greed and hidden treachery. Evoran was certain that if he had remained in the bed it would have swallowed him whole as he slept.
The radiance of the new sun penetrated the bedchamber and illuminated even the most angular of crooks. Evoran abandoned his seat to approach the window and peer through the vanishing mist onto the town below. He spotted the Mystvale gates and the trade road beyond them—the road that he hoped would carry him home in due time. Brande seemed sincere in his promise to see him from the city, but Evoran learned long ago to never trust a noble.
A knock at the door shook Evoran from his thoughts and Brande Tholwilde announced his presence through the dense wood. Hesitantly, Evoran approached the door and unfastened the bolt which held it securely shut.
"Did you not sleep?" Brande asked with genuine curiosity from the threshold. His eyes remained glued upon Evoran's pale form.
"I will sleep when I return home," Evoran clarified.
"Of that I have no doubt," Brande pointed out. "The Gael N'Aem will depart soon. They will see you safely from Mystvale." Brande held an outstretched hand toward the hall and Evoran fell into step next to him. His pace was cautious and his eyes and ears were carefully trained for any indication of Talis' presence.
"Fear not. My brother has gone for a hunt in the mist," Brande explained.
Despite the reassurance, Evoran remained visibly tense as they walked through the dimly lit maze of stone corridors. They walked from the halls to the court, and then to the stables near the court square. The stables were dim and musty, and Evoran took particular notice of the smell of hay and sweet oats that perfumed the stale air.
Evoran spotted the Gael N'Aem in a rear, dimly lit division of the stable house. Two were sitting tall on the naked backs of their horses while the third had locked foreheads with the magnificent beast he would soon ride. Evoran kept a curious watch the youngest wizard from the aisle that bisected two rows of well-kept stable pins.
Evoran had been told of the northern wizards as a child. His mother had occasionally spoken of what little was known of the Geal N'Aem's practices and mysticism. Everything else that Evoran had learned he had heard from his encounters with the intoxicated elders of A'Menth Tara. They spoke of insatiable lusts for power, so-called righteous sacrifices under the light of thirsting moons and abilities far beyond the reach of mere mortals.
As Evoran studied the three powerful men before him, he saw not the barbaric people from the stories he had heard as a child. Granted, the Gael N'Aem were uniquely confident in their ways, but their willingness to help him, to defend him again Talis' ruthlessness, allowed him to perceive them in a different light.
"They are inseparable," the eldest of the Geal N'Aem observed as Evoran drew near. "They love like siblings," he continued to explain as he motioned to the youngest and his horse. Evoran nodded uncomfortably but kept his lips tightly sealed.
"You may call me Iian," the second youngest declared with a warm smile. He then motioned to the eldest with his left hand. "This is Priest-Roah, and the youngest of us is Hale."
Hale and his horse both turned to look at Evoran simultaneously. A moment later the horse knelt gracefully on the cool, stone floor of the stable and Hale climbed elegantly atop its back.
"Come," Hale then offered. "Ride with me. Yevdrid is young and strong. He can easily carry us both."
Evoran dared not hesitate. Though his nerves tingled with fear, he dreaded another night in Mystvale more than any fate the Gael N'Aem may have had in store for him. He suspected he would receive another brutal beating if he lingered long enough for Talis Tholwilde to return. If the Geal N'Aem could carry him from the dreadful walls of Mystvale then he would gladly accept their transportation.
It took Evoran a moment to climb atop the kneeling horse and settle himself behind Hale. Even by Hale's helping hand, Evoran found mounting a horse with no stirrups quite awkward. As soon as he seemed set, Yevdrid stood and walked casually to join the others. Brande, who had been watching quietly from the aisle, accepted a knit bag from a court servant and approached Evoran.
"This should last you on the journey home," he said as he handed the bag to Evoran. Evoran glanced at its contents to find bread, apples and cheeses inside. He then trained his eyes upon Brande once more and offered the best smile he could manage.
"Thank you," he said at last. Brande nodded before turning to the address the Gael N'Aem
"Fair journey my friends."
"Thank you for your hospitality," Iian said graciously.
"With luck on our side," Priest-Roah offered, "we will see you again soon."
"I truly hope so. Mystvale is blessed by your presence." Brande smiled and the three nodded together before gently urging their horses from the stable house. "Farewell, Evoran," Brande said with a final wave of his hand. "May the Fates see you safely home!"
Brande watched as the four turned a corner and rode toward the city gates. He began to dwell on the future as he heard the clanking of the horse's hooves fade upon the cobblestone streets. He wondered if he truly would see them again, or if Evoran would indeed return safely to his village. Brande sighed and looked ashamedly at the stone walls around him before finally returning to the court to await the cold heart of his brother.
Evoran's shoulders felt less heavy beyond the gates of Mystvale. His burden felt lifted at last. A smile played upon his lips and relief washed over him. He felt it best to inform the Gael N'Aem where, precisely, his home was located. He hoped they could deliver him as closely as possible. Evoran sat tall and peered over Hale's shoulder to speak but he was cut off before he could begin.
"Yes. A'Menth Tara. We know, friend," Hale said suddenly with a warm smile. Evoran was startled when he remembered the wizards could see into the minds of others. It made him wonder what else they had glimpsed within him. "Your secret is safe with us, Evoran. Fear not."
"What secret?" Evoran asked genuinely after a long moment of bafflement.
"We know why you returned the dove, and we know of the warning it carried." Evoran swallowed hard and tried to calm his speeding heart. "Word regarding Southland reached us long before you were caught `stealing' from the King's riders."
"And you did not mention this to Lord Tholwilde? Why?" Evoran asked despite his nerves. "He might have—"
"Informing Lord Tholwilde of your knowledge, and that your mother had broken a royal seal carried by a royal dove, would have certainly given him grounds to impart unimaginable punishment. We knew of your true intent and your innocence." Evoran did not speak but instead thought of the terrible things Talis Tholwilde might have done if he had known. "You are lucky that they merely thought you a thief and did not further charge you with treason. If they had spotted your hands on the parchment, then we would have found your corpse in the square when we arrived, and your head in the waters of the Naga."
Evoran pictured the image and a sour look consumed his expression as he absently wrenched his legs tighter around Yevdrid's sides. He wished, perhaps all too much, that Talis would become prey to his own madness.
"What Talis does not know will never hurt him or anyone else," Iian then added. "It is best, in fact, that he remain uninformed on many matters."
...
Adoran lay conscious and still on the cool ground. He had been listening to the passing of a rather large group of individuals as they trotted south along the distant, mud-brick trade road. He suspected the travelers were a deployment of aide from the north sent to Brandyshire. Several minutes passed before their sounds had been carried away, and Adoran was then left to ponder over Brandyshire's welfare with only Lanse's ragged breathing to accompany his thoughts.
The grass beneath Adoran tickled at the skin of his neck and the scent of dew lay heavy in the air. The sun would rise soon, and with it came another day of feverish riding upon the backs of the beasts Plaseharold had generously gifted them only a few days past. Adoran could not remember a time when his thighs ached so, or burned so intensely to the slightest touch. While beautiful creatures, and moderately intelligent, Adoran held firmly to his belief that horses were no more meant for riding than a Darkling. He could hear the beasts breathing deeply even as they slept and wondered if, like Lanse, they too had become victims of nightmarish devilry behind the heavy lids of their eyes.
Lanse had been stirring for a long while but he never rose. Adoran remembered calming Lanse the last time such horrors had taken him, but he did not attempt to sooth his friend's uneasiness this night. It would not have mattered. Adoran was powerless and had been so since he woke in the court of Brandyshire. He felt the emptiness within him, a hollow void familiar only to mortals. As a result, Lanse lay unsettled on the cool grass and violent tremors raced through him. Consequently, Adoran received little rest.
Images of the twins crept into Adoran's thoughts. His concern for their safety had only augmented since he and Lanse had left Brandyshire. With the loss of his abilities Adoran was unable to communicate with the twins. He had tried multiple times to channel with Misha and Ashera, and each time he felt the disappointment of fruitless results. Regardless, he knew they were alive. He had strength enough to convince himself of that.
Adoran had not told Lanse of his current predicament, of his impotence, and he hoped he would never find himself in a situation where he must. He wondered if Lanse would look at him differently or think him incompetent. In fact, Adoran had withheld much from the young Lord in recent days.
The Black Sleep steals many things from its victims, but the senses remain impeccably attuned. Adoran remembered the dark beast, the spell that betrayed him and the resulting immobility in his limbs. He remembered crashing clumsily to the floor of their bedchamber before reaching out to the twins in a desperate, last-minute attempt to save both Lanse and himself. He vividly recalled the hours he spent unconscious on the cot in the court hall as Lanse waited patiently for him to wake, and the unexpected touch that came not from a healer. An echo of the tender words that followed played in his mind: "Why do you sleep?"
Adoran sighed in the darkness as Lanse jerked harshly yet again. He shook his head to free his mind from ridiculous notions and rolled onto his left side to face the horses. He began to think of the Temple, the Council and of Roan Vyce as well. Adoran hoped Roan would have a remedy for his weakness—his loss of power. Perhaps if he had not lost his elemental box at Southland then he would not have remained broken longer than a day at most. Still, if Roan did not possess a solution then Adoran would have no choice but to travel to the Temple in search of a cure.
The thought of a journey to the far north, leaving Lanse in the hands of crooked politicians, left a fowl taste in Adoran's mouth. He became suddenly certain that Lanse's sole purpose in the world was to thoroughly perplex those in his presence. Closing his eyes tightly against the inquiries of his curious mind, Adoran pulled his cloak tighter to his chest and calmed his thoughts.
Silence thundered in his ears as he lay upon the grass. A cool breeze tugged at Adoran's hair and he thought that, under different circumstances perhaps, he certainly would be content to lay under a cloudless sky with someone as beautiful as Lanse as his side. This night however, wishes and wants were not so delightfully simple. Truthfully, Adoran found himself wanting for many things he had previously never desired, or given very little thought at best.
A gasp from Lanse broke through the night and shattered the fragile silence like a rock breaking the surface of a pristine lake. Adoran twitched harshly and turned to find Lanse sitting rigidly upright as he stared into the night sky. His neck was craned at an odd angle and his eyes seemed fixed on a point in the stars that eluded Adoran's gaze. Despite his abrupt awakening, Lanse sat perfectly still.
"My friend," Adoran whispered hesitantly in the darkness. Lanse did not respond but instead kept his senses tuned toward the sky. Adoran stood and turned his attention toward the sky but still he saw nothing. He was not able to enter Lanse's dreams or he certainly would have done so.
"Lanse!" Adoran called in a bold staccato. Still, Lanse's mind remained distant. Adoran grasped Lanse by the shoulders and shook him gently as he repeatedly called his name. He tapped Lanse's cheeks with the pads of his fingers and was prepared to slap him, his right hand raised high into a striking position, when Lanse finally responded.
Lanse inhaled sharply and blinked with strained effort. His muscles began to relax and Adoran guided his exhausted, limp form easily to the cool earth. Lanse wore a look of confusion and alarm. Adoran studied him concernedly for a long moment.
"Where did you go?" Adoran asked softly as he hovered closely by. "What did you see?"
Lanse blinked thoughtfully as his eyes searched their surroundings for an answer. Beads of moisture pooled on his forehead and trickled along the lines of his youthful skin. Lanse wiped at his face and eyes with a free hand and swallowed hard as he attempted to calm his breathing.
"I do not know," Lanse explained. "I cannot remember." His breathing was ragged and he continued to look all around him for a moment before his gaze settled on Adoran's concerned expression at last. "But I was not here."
"Rest for a moment," Adoran offered as he let his hand settle on Lanse's shoulder. Lanse sensed an incongruity in the Gael N'Aem's mask of assuredness, but he said nothing. "I will ready the horses. The sun will soon wake and we can leave this night behind us."
As Adoran roused and saddled the horses, he was afforded the opportunity to reflect on Lanse's words and recent events. He had never before witnessed such powerful dreams in a mortal. Lanse's "condition" left Adoran troubled. He longed for the ability to peer into Lanse's dreams once more—to see beyond the surface. He surely would have pushed beyond the fog to discover what lay dormant inside it. The ambiguity of the situation left him rattled and permeated with concern.
Adoran hissed in aggravation as he became suddenly aware that he was no more or less valuable than a mortal in his current state. He pulled forcefully on a leather synch and began lacing it into a simple knot. The wishes and wants of a desperate Gael N'Aem would surely not present a solution to his encumbrance. He willed his racing mind to calm itself, and when it refused he ultimately decided to conceal his distress.
Moments later Adoran was joined by Lanse, who gathered his belongings and mounted his horse wearily. Lanse watched in a disinterested fashion as Adoran secured a satchel of bread and cheese to a steel ring on the saddle.
"Are you well to ride?" Adoran inquired in his typical tone as he tugged on a tiny strap.
"Well enough," Lanse responded distantly. He had suddenly taken an interest in the stitching on the pommel of his saddle.
"Each passing day brings us closer to the City of Smiles," Adoran offered. "We will soon arrive."
"Perhaps a dreamless sleep awaits me there," Lanse said with a hint of hope in his words.
Adoran looked warmly at Lanse for a moment and then mounted his horse. Once in the saddle he adjusted his posture and silently pleaded for a day of riding that would not set his thighs ablaze with torment. A gentle nudge from Adoran's heels sent the horse into an easy step. With the rising sun to light their path, Adoran led the way back to the road and onward toward the City of Smiles.
...
Hale had slowed Yevdrid on more than one occasion to right a dismally weary Evoran. The sun had begun to set in the western sky and with its vanishing heat a moist chill began to rise. Their journey had been swift thus far, as Yevdrid's smooth gate seemed to somehow bend time. The Gael N'Aem had stopped to rest only once since they departed Mystvale and set upon the Trade Road. Already they quickly approached A'Menth Tara. Nonetheless, Hale and Yevdrid kept an eye trained on Evoran, who had threatened to tumble from the swift horse more times than any in the party would care to acknowledge.
"The Trade Road will soon fork," Iian pointed out in the closing darkness. Evoran strained to glance at his surroundings. When he finally caught a coherent glimpse his eyes grew wide with anticipation.
"At last," he mumbled. Hale was quick to cast him a warm smile.
"Indeed. You are almost home."
"You," Priest-Roah said to Hale, "must see the lad to his home. Yevdrid is swift. You will catch us easily."
"I will return before you reach the Dead Road," Hale responded after he nodded in understanding. "Do not slow for me."
As the Trade Road began to split, Hale directed Yevdrid to hold south. Iian and Priest-Roah continued along the main road and soon vanished from sight. Evoran held tight to Yevdrid as the road began to twist and enter dense foliage. The creeping moon, Evoran noticed, was nearing the end of its cycle. Very little of its light penetrated the lush leaves of the canopy, but Evoran deduced that Hale and Yevdrid could likely see well enough to guide them nonetheless.
"You could simply have ignored the dove," Hale said suddenly over the clacking of Yevdrid's hooves. "Why risk your life for a cause that is not your own?" Yevdrid twisted his ears as if he too was interested to hear Evoran's explanation.
"Perhaps for the same reason you took pity on a commoner in Mystvale," Evoran responded. His statement earned him a thoughtful look from Hale and a faint whinny from Yevdrid. Perhaps the graceful creature had found a touch of humor in his words.
"You are noble and true, Evoran of A'Menth Tara," Hale said. "Though, I will be grateful when you no longer threaten to tumble from Yevdrid's back." Evoran laughed despite the warmth that surged to his cheeks.
The ride had been long and feverish, and both found the conversing refreshing. Conversation had been scarce at best since they had departed, and speaking with Hale had helped to tare Evoran's thoughts from a growing hunger. He had consumed the last of Brande Tholwilde's gifts long before the sun fell below the horizon, and his tired body craved nourishment and rest. Though, the talking ended when Evoran spotted the dim lights of A'Menth Tara through the thinning tree line.
Evoran's smile widened and Hale drove Yevdrid into a quicker pace as the road began to widen beyond the forest. Free at last of the confining limbs and treacherously jagged paths, Yevdrid raced to the village proper. Many of the villagers had retreated to the sanctuary of their homes to stave off the cool evening air, but a few children still played amid the abandoned stone paths of A'Menth Tara. Some watched in awe as Yevdrid carried his riders fleetingly by while others, generally the older children, dove from their path in terror-ridden fashions.
Evoran spotted one child in particular sitting on a low limb of a great tree that overlooked his family farm and home. Had it not been for the light of the moon, Evoran would have taken no notice of the young boy. When Danel caught sight of the approaching riders he hopped from his perch and approached cautiously to investigate. The appearance of Evoran's smile from behind the cloaked rider prompted the spread of a wide grin on Danel's face.
"Danel!" Evoran heard his mother yell from inside their cottage. "Come inside before you catch a chill!" Londa presented herself at the threshold when Danel did not immediately respond. She caught sight of Evoran dismounting a horse and she smiled eagerly before running to him with outstretched arms. The Gael N'Aem sitting atop the mighty steed did not escape her notice, however.
"Home at last," Londa said as she pulled her son into a tight embrace. When she released Evoran to hold him at arms length she took particular notice of the bruises on his cheeks and lip. A concerned expression replaced her joy. Anxiety painted a her face as she gasped and brought a quivering hand to her lips. "What has happened?" she asked as she glanced quickly from Lanse and Hale.
"Nothing of great interest," Evoran said in a consoling tone. Londa and Danel saw plainly the hollowness of his response. Even Yevdrid's ears flew into a cockeyed position as he blew fiercely through his nose. "It is wonderful to see you both," Evoran continued in hopes of changing the subject. Danel studied Evoran quite seriously for a long moment before smiling again.
"I'm glad you are back," Danel said warmly as he hugged Evoran waist. Danel seemed, for the moment, content to let his brother elude questioning regarding his disheveled state.
"Do you see?" Evoran asked of Danel as he looked to the moon and extended a directing finger. Danel's eyes turned toward the sky for a moment. "I promised you I would return before the moon was new." Evoran gave Danel a pat on the shoulder and turned to Hale.
"Thank you, Hale" Evoran said kindly. "I owe to you all the coming days of my life."
"You owe me nothing," Hale responded. "The pleasure has always been mine, friend." Hale then briefly addressed Londa. "Your son is strong and brave, but he should take great care to stay clear of Mystvale." Londa's eyes grew wide with concern once more.
"Where are your belongings?" Danel asked Evoran curiously as Londa nodded in agreement. She perched on her toes to peer behind Hale as if they might be concealed from sight.
"I had to leave them behind," Evoran responded hesitantly.
"You must tell me everything," Danel said as he clasped Evoran by the hand to lead him slowly away. Evoran struggled to offer a final wave to Hale while Danel attempted to pull him toward the doorway.
"We will me meet again," Hale announced confidently.
Hale had been smiling as he watched Evoran disappear at the clutches of his younger sibling, but Hale's expression began to change when his eyes fell upon Londa's still form. She stood steadfast before him. Hale sensed uneasiness within her as she watched and waited for her sons to enter their cottage. Londa turned back to Hale with a rigidness in her back and shoulders, and an uncharitable expression on her face that he did not anticipate.
"I know what you are. You must leave," Londa declared lowly. Hale wore a confused, guarded expression. He was tempted to peer beyond her fiery eyes and into her thoughts, but ultimately he decided otherwise.
"I have no intention of remaining here, my Lady," Hale responded calmly.
"Please," she added with an unexpected touch of sincerity, "see that you do not."
Hale bowed deeply and turned Yevdrid to ride from the village. A nudge reminded Yevdrid of their pending rendezvous, and the horse bolted for the woodland road that would lead them back toward their comrades. Behind him, Hale sensed the watchful eyes of a concerned mother, but he did not turn to confirm his tingling senses. He welcomed the shelter of the concealing treeline when the road met the forest.
...
Adoran had kept a close watch on Lanse as they rode. Even in the gathering darkness he trained his eyes on the young Lord as he rode nearly lifeless atop his horse. His eyes threatened to seal themselves against consciousness and his hands had fallen upon the pommel of his saddle. Lanse weakly gripped the reins, and he threatened to release the flimsy leather straps from his limp fingers. Lanse began to nod as they rode and Adoran feared that he may tumble from the beast before they reached the end of their journey.
The two had not stopped to rest their weary eyes in nearly two days. At Lanse's request they had kept to the road and pressed onward. Adoran had not slept in days--not since he woke in Brandyshire. He craved the serenity and escape that sleep provided, yet despite his weary eyes and fatigued body he remained unable to escape the waking world.
Adoran diverted his eyes for a moment to gaze into the sky. He peered into the sea of darkness in a vain attempt to discover what had held Lanse so terribly still two nights past. The past two days had given Adoran ample time to consider many things. He had pondered over the fog in Lanse's mind yet again, and was deeply curious to know if it was somehow connected to his restless dreaming and violent tremors. Most importantly, he wondered what lay in wait within the cloudy recesses of Lanse's mind. He sighed in the growing darkness and tuned his gaze on the horizon.
Clouds were brewing upon the skyline--dark, thick clouds that masked the stars and drifted lowly amid the heavens. Flashes of light illuminated a distant skyline to reveal a sizable, fast-approaching storm. The light of the moon became cloaked as the dense shadow drew ever closer. Adoran watched as the brilliant thunderclouds roll against an ominous sky.
"We must make haste if we are to reach the city before the storm finds us." Adoran spoke evenly despite his wearied state. A delayed nod signaled Lanse's understanding.
Adoran nudged his horse with his heels and the beast sprung into a jarring canter. Lanse's horse was quick to match pace. Adoran found the unwaveringly harsh jolting of the beast's stride to be nearly enough to sicken him. If nothing else, he surmised, it would serve to keep them both alert until they reached their destination.
A steady wind broke through the surrounding trees as the mass of explosive clouds crept closer. The air grew moist and the smell of dirt and grass became punctuated by the twisting winds that preceded the storm. A noticeable chill tickled at the naked skin of Lanse's neck and forced him to pull his cloak tightly around his body. Both shared a momentary look before urging their horses into a faster gait.
The wind tugged at clothing and hair, and whistled obnoxiously in the ears of the horses as it began to gust with greater ferocity. A pelting rain began to fall, pummeling the earth with large, biting droplets of water. Adoran and Lanse attempted to shelter themselves from the unforgiving weather with their cloaks but instead settled for clinging firmly to the necks and mane of their horses. Again, Adoran found himself longing for the swiftness and skillfulness of the twins.
The mud-brick road they trod turned to cobblestone as the trees on either side began to part. Adoran dared to bare his face to the stinging rain and scraping wind, and in a brief glance he spotted the faint lights in the towers of the City of Smiles. He sighed in relief but held tightly to his mount as they closed the distance.
"At last!" came a muffled cry from Lanse.
They approached the city's towering walls and reined the beasts to an abrupt halt under a lofty awning above the central gate. Flags hung from the high-arching entryway, partially concealing the elephantine doors that guarded against unwanted entry. Feeling somewhat safer from the wind and rain, Adoran dismounted and carefully swung the reins clear of the horse's neck. He approached the gated entry and rapped loudly upon the large doors. When his request for entry went unnoticed he repeated the gesture with amplified force.
Adoran waited as patiently as he could manage for the city guard to open the spyhole. After several moments a metal shim slid roughly aside to expose a pair of narrow eyes peering intently at Adoran from beyond the slender opening.
"State your business here," a coarse, deep voice demanded. The eyes to which it belonged narrowed in dissatisfaction when Adoran did not immediately respond.
"I am Adoran of the Gael N'Aem. I come to speak with the Council of Eight."
"Why might a wizard be traveling on such an dreadful night?" the guard pressed with more than a touch of disfavor.
"It is of no concern to you," Adoran responded candidly. The guard's eyes widened momentarily but immediately narrowed when he took notice of Lanse sitting idly behind Adoran.
"How many in your party?" he asked with avid aggravation as his gaze flew back to Adoran.
"No more than you see."
The guard took several moments to evaluate the situation before slamming the metal shim harshly shut. Adoran took the opportunity to mount his horse once more. The large doors began to slowly part on their squeaky, angular hinges after what seemed an eternity of waiting. They opened to reveal the scowling guard, soaked and sodden by the pouring rains, standing rigidly beyond them. His hands were crossed most uncomfortably upon his chest while he strove to stand as stiffly as his rotund form would allow.
"Admitting travelers after evenfall is treacherous business," the guard said grumpily. One of Lanse's eyebrows rose curiously as he examined the strange man. "Who's the dawdler?" Lanse shot the guard a deathly glare.
"You will do well to mind your tongue," Adoran said sharply before Lanse could respond. Adoran urged his horse through the gate and into the falling rain once more. Adoran marched forward until the guard took a step backward for fear of being trampled. "Commoners, even those dressed in noble garb, owe their allegiance to their Lords." Adoran eyed the man fiercely.
The guard swallowed hard and looked past Adoran to find Lanse starring angrily at him. Shocked, he stood with a bewildered look upon his face. Adoran nudged his horse onward and Lanse quickly followed as he kept a keen eye on the guard. Once they had passed, the guard ordered the gates tightly sealed before running ashamedly to the safety of a dimly lit niche near the base of the towering wall.
The heavy rains washed mud and debris amid the horse's hooves as they rode through the deserted city streets. The horses sloshed through the murky water that masked the chiseled cobblestone, and veered through narrow alleyways where the rain poured upon their heads from the steeply sloping rooftops above them. The winds, at least, were not so prominent within the walls of the city. Still, the two struggled to keep the icy water from chilling them to the core as they followed the dim lamps of the city.
When Lanse finally spotted the stables, he straightened his back and breathed in relief. He urged his horse into the stables as quickly as the fatigued beast would carry him. Lanse quickly dismounted once he was free of the wild weather. Adoran arrived only a moment later to find him ringing the water from his sleeves and cloak.
A stable hand quickly appeared from an unseen entry to greet them. The lad was no doubt younger than Lanse, but easily stood two hands taller. He wore tattered clothing, a belt from which multiple grooming tools dangled in a cluster and had brown curly hair that fell upon his shoulders. Both likely agreed that his clothing was much too old and too small for his growing form—leaving little to the imagination.
"Come further," the young man said in a voice still in turmoil from his changing physiology. He took the reins from Lanse and led the party further into the stables. "The weather is not so harsh inside."
They followed the lad further into the stables before Adoran dismounted. Like Lanse, he seemed more than happy to hand his horse to the young man when the opportunity presented itself. As the lad tended to the horses, Adoran took a brief moment to let his aching thighs rest. He turned to find Lanse pouring the water from his soggy boots and a smile played upon Adoran's lips. Lanse had been completely drenched by the rains and stood quivering as streams of water trickled from his hair and fingertips. Adoran brushed the water from his own hair and face. He watched Lanse for a brief moment before he finally spoke.
"Come," Adoran instructed as he shed his wet cloak and draped it neatly over his left arm. "You are freezing. Let us warm your bones." Lanse looked at Adoran, who appeared calm and unflinching, as he eased the boots back onto his feet.
"Are you not chilled?" Lanse asked with some astonishment as he fell into step next to Adoran.
"Freezing," Adoran confessed after a moment.
"You haven't the slightest tremor."
"You are trembling enough for us both," Adoran jested. "Now, let us find our way to the keep."
Lanse found himself smiling despite the weariness he felt. He pulled his cold, wet cloak closer to his body in a fruitless attempt to warm himself and followed Adoran through a corridor off one end of the stables. Lanse yearned only for a fire, a bit of food and a warm bed. He glanced at Adoran as they walked and wondered if the Gael N'Aem desired similar things. Perhaps they would be free of the darkness at last—free of the shadows, the weather and the wilds. Maybe their stay in the City of Smiles truly would mark the end of their trials.
Lanse's smile began to fade when he realized that, if his hopes were realized, he may soon be bidding his farewells to Adoran. His gaze fell upon the stone floor for a long moment. The thought left him feeling weak and his breath caught in his throat.
"Lanse?" Adoran's voice echoed through the corridor. Lanse looked up to find Adoran had advanced several paces ahead of him. Adoran stood in wait for a long moment before he began retracing his steps. "What is it?"
Lanse swallowed to clear his throat. "It's nothing," he replied emptily as he pulled the soaked cloak even tighter around his form. He locked eyes with Adoran at last and, while he thought Adoran to honorable person, prayed the Gael N'Aem would not invade his thoughts. "I just needed to rest for a moment."
Adoran nodded thoughtfully and then clapped Lanse on the shoulder. He held out an inviting hand as he spoke. "Come," he said gently. "Many comforts wait for us."
"I truly hope so," Lanse admitted under his breath.