Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

[Seteta]

Seteta's brow wrinkled thoughtfully as she noted that the individual Chaceledon called Jason the others referred to as Jess, and if she ever encountered that particular Volker again, then she wanted some clarification.

She blushed a little as one of the younger Volker's declared her adorable, grateful yet again for her headscarf. Chaceledon was able to make quick work of getting the Volkers at least through the black door after that, though, and she gave a friendly wave to Aluid as Chaceledon carried him through the door.

Then it was her, Huron, Ferenzi and Rheinhard, and the sight of Rheinhard concerned her. She assumed that physical injuries didn't translate outside the Well, but even so... with magic apparently failing somewhat, and then the sheer mental stress of dealing with that many different souls in your head all at once... she didn't know what to expect once they were outside the Well again, only that it would be not good.

Chaceledon was back with them, then, tending to Rheinhard.

Huron looked at Seteta curiously, rubbing his neck. “H-h-hey. I s-suh-saw the illusion m-magic you did. It w-was good.” He smiled softly. Chaceledon took her hand and kissed it, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Let’s go.” he said quietly.

"Ah, thank you," Seteta told Huron, though she really hadn't done any illusion magic of particular note around Rheinhard. Just... removing the scar on Chaceledon's face the once, and then altering his eye color. Those were simple things.

She smiled, nodding with a bit of relief, when Chaceledon kissed her hand and signaled for them to leave. Her stomach flipped a little as darkness swirled around them again, and then the air around them was hot and hazy. She coughed a little as she tried to breath, eventually taking shallow breaths in an attempt to avoid inhaling ash. The heat and smoke stung her eyes.

When Rheinhard crumpled to his knees and vomited, she reached for her satchel and pulled out the extra headscarf, then knelt beside him. "Pinch your nose and tip your head back," she told him, wiping the bile and blood from his face as he did so.

"Can you carry him?" she shouted to Chaceledon over the noise of the roaring fires. "Hopefully the gates will be unguarded with all this to deal with."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon swore and covered his mouth, blinking through the smoke. The fires had spread through the inn, to two buildings on either side, and one of the guard towers along the wall. The place was billowing in black smoke from leather, old wood, and various foodstuffs going up in flame. The guards of Vel Anir would be battling this for days! He saw Seteta tend to Rheinhard, who looked dazed.

Chaceledon hoped the boys would stay in the hallway. The only one who could lock the door was Oor. Chaceledon hauled Rheinhard into his arms, grunting. Rheinhard wasn’t a tall creature but he was no Seteta. He blinked away tears from the smoke.

“Go! Keep low to the ground.” he told her, and hurried back the way they’d come. From the weight of the pack over his shoulder, Rheinhard had managed to get some of the supplies they’d need.

“You there! Stop!” A guard spotted them through the smoke, but Chaceledon didn’t dare stop. The man would have to choose between running after them on foot, or helping his own home from burning to the ground. Unsurprisingly, he chose the latter, and Chaceledon hurried through the gates. Unfortunately...now they were on Vel Anir’s radar. The guards wouldn’t be taking this laying down. They would come looking for them, and their camp was too close.

“Damn.” Chaceledon swore. They would have very little choice but to break down and get moving as fast as humanly possible. He set Rheinhard into the back of the wagon when they returned to camp, and tugged the bearskin over him. He set the pack by him, and hurried to grab their tent. “Seteta help me! Those fires won’t distract them for long; once they get a mage to help douse it they’ll come for us.” he called to her, practically throwing the bedrolls and blankets into the back.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

The smoke at least worked to their advantage. Only one guard even dared to challenge them, but there were no arrows sent their way for fear of hitting other guards or innocent civilians, or any other hindrances. She lagged behind Chaceledon a little as they raced back to camp, having to stop a few moments to catch her breath and inhale clean air, tugging the headscarf down from her mouth and nose.

Chaceledon was settling Rheinhard in the back of the wagon when she trailed in behind him.

“Seteta help me! Those fires won’t distract them for long; once they get a mage to help douse it they’ll come for us.” he called to her, practically throwing the bedrolls and blankets into the back.

She nodded, not sure if he saw it, but her throat was sore and raw from the heat and smoke and she doubted she would be able to shout so there was no use trying. Her eyes still watered some, and she found herself blinking furiously as she first retrieved the horses, quickly hitching Rations to the wagon. She wished that she could hitch Mau up as well, but she didn't know if the mare was trained for drafting, and the harness wasn't made for two, anyway.

Hopefully, any mages within Vel Anir would be having the same problems they were, and would be unable to magically douse the raging fires. While Seteta felt a stab of pity for the innocent people who would--had--lost lives and homes, her focus right now was smaller. Herself, Chaceledon, Rheinhard. They were the ones she had to see to safety.

This was different, too, than the village that Gaal had enslaved. This incident would never have happened if the magic hadn't... stopped. It was far beyond their control. Any of them.

With Rations hitched up, she then went to disassemble the tent. Chaceledon had emptied it, and between the two of them they quickly broke it down and loaded it up, though they didn't bother to fold it completely. All that was left then was the dishes and utensils around the fire, which had fortunately cooled enough for her to handle since they'd doused the fire before heading into the city.

"Can you drive the wagon?" she asked as they hurriedly packed up the little that remained at the campsite. "I'm not sure if Mau will follow along easily, so it'd be best if I can ride her. But if you need to be in the back with Rheinhard, we'll make it work."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon nodded and got up to the wagon. Well, he was sure he could drive it. How hard could it be? He took up the reins and looked over his shoulder at Rheinhard. Throwing the blankets and the tent over him was exactly what he’d wanted; he was curled up underneath it. Rheinhard sought safety and darkness in times like these, and needed to rest and sort out the mess in his head. Chaceledon uneasily flapped the reins, and clicked his tongue as he’d seen Reinhard do.

Rations trotted ahead, and increased his speed when Chaceledon repeated the action. By now the horses could smell the smoke and were eager to be away from it. Thankfully Seteta was able to cover the wagon tracks.

Hours in, they began to hit wet road. Mud flicked up under the wagon and Rations began to wet his fetlocks in ever-increasing puddles. Frogs called, and the trees were covered in draping mosses that looked like forgotten kerchiefs. The road was wetter, and wetter the further they went. Bugs began to fly at them, irritating the horses. Rations stopped altogether at one point to bite at the stinging flies on his shoulders.

Chaceledon uneasily dropped into the mud, making a high, thin sound of disgust in his throat. Oh gods, why? Everything stank like fetid water. He flung the canvas tent over Rations’ back, hopefully protecting him from further biting. Chaceledon could feel them on his neck and face, and he swatted at them angrily.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta hadn't bothered to saddle Mau, nor replace the halter with a bridle. She'd ridden both horses and camels all her life in Amol-Kalit, and when navigating the sands, knowing how to ride a variety of mounts in different ways could mean the difference between life and death.

Chaceledon managed to get Rations moving, the poor horse likely spurred on both by the smell of smoke and the presence of a dragon at the reins. Seteta crouched to the earth one final time, pressing her palm to it in one more attempt to sense the magic. Again, there was something like an echo of it, but before she could grab onto it, it faded away again. With a frustrated sigh, she mounted Mau.

Seteta took the lead as they traveled through the night, as quickly as the road and the moonlight would allow. It was nearing dawn when they finally diverged off the main road. She hadn't dared to pull them off it sooner, not willing to risk breaking one of the horse's legs. It was a couple hours after that when she dared to bring them to a stop briefly, and try her magic again. She nearly collapsed with relief when she felt it, and following their trail all the way back to the road, she was able to obscure their tracks. A skilled tracker with several hours might pick it up again, eventually, but a squad on patrol hurriedly searching? Unlikely.

"We can move a little slower now," she told Chaceledon when she handed out some of the dried meat and fruit, plenty for both him and Rheinhard. "But I'm not sure we have a choice. Eventually we'll have to stop before the horses collapse, and we'll need to rest for at least a full day, if not a little longer."

It was midafternoon, well into wetlands, that the decision to stop was finally made for them, regardless. Mau and Rations both kept stopping to bite at the flies, and Seteta was excruciatingly weary. Between the sparring with Chaceledon, rescuing Rheinhard from his relatives--she assumed, at the least, that the other Volkers were cooperating and staying locked up because she'd not heard a peep out of Rheinhard since they left Vel Anir--she was exhausted and aching. But even through her wearied state, she kept funneling and storing the pain away. Her illusion magic was the only thing that had continued through the magical hiccup with any reliability, and if it was the only thing she could use, then she wanted to be ready.

She was so tired that not even Chaceledon's whine as he stepped into the mud amused her.

"No-" her voice caught, throat hoarse yet from the smoke she'd inhaled, and she coughed while Chaceledon covered Rations with the canvas. "Not that," she managed to say raspily, bringing Mau alongside the wagon and dismounting. "The mud. Coat the horses--and our exposed skin--in the mud, and the flies won't be able to get through it."

Without hesitation, she reached down into the mire, slathered the mud over her hands, and began to smear it across her face, and hands, then moved on to smearing it over Mau.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon sighed and pulled the tent off, and was folding it up. “Well I don’t want to get it dirty either dear, but someone has to help the poor thing. He’s got welts I can see from the driver’s seat.” he said, giving Ration’s fly-bitten shoulder a good scratch. The horse groaned and leaned into the touch. Chaceledon looked around. They needed to rest but where the hell could one camp in this mess?

He was exhausted, being filthy put him in a terrible mood, and he really couldn’t think any more. He supposed he had some bug cream somewhere, but where would he have...he glanced at Seteta and a horrified shriek fell from his lips. Rations startled, having fully been engrossed in biting at his welts, but thankfully was too tired to bolt. “Seteta what are you doing?!”

That mud was filthy! It was mud from the road! Animals had probably pissed in it! He covered his mouth and gagged into his hand. She smelled awful!

“Absolutely not! That’s perfectly insane!” he told her in abject horror, getting back on the wagon if only out of fear that she’d get him next. “Don’t you dare get near me with those hands!” He managed to puff a plume of tiny flame at the next fly to get near his face, watching the crisp insect fall to the mud with a satisfied look.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta's eyebrows raise--truly, nearly joining her hairline--at Chaceledon's shriek. She'd gotten mud smeared across Mau's muzzle, up her face, and was working her way down the mare's neck. She rolled her eyes, scooped up a handful of mud with a devious smirk, and chucked it at the dragon just after he'd incinerated a bug.

It hit him smack in the face with an incredibly satisfying splat.

She watched just long enough to make sure that he wasn't going to fall off the wagon seat and break his neck, then ducked back behind Mau. Her shoulders shook with quiet laughter as she bent back down and retrieved more mud, continuing to smear it down Mau's neck to her shoulders.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon froze. Mud dropped down his face and splattered along his neck and chest. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips pursed, hands up as though he’d been struck. She had thrown mud at him. She had thrown. Mud. At. Him. Steam rose from the mud as his face heated angrily, drying out the wet mud into crumbling soil. He shook it free from his face, and wiped a hand down it. He turned a vicious glare on her. Now he felt entirely disgusting!

“I hate this fucking swamp.” he growled, shaking dried mud out of his hair. He pulled ahead, completely ignoring Seteta. He stank now! Was he going to get out of this without any part of him stinking like algae? He seethed in anger, hurrying the long suffering Rations along. He didn’t see anywhere to camp, and as the afternoon wore on his patience grew thinner and thinner.

He spotted it through the trees, and yanked the horse so quickly to a stop he was forced to crow hop. He got down from the wagon and looked at it; a clear pool of water with mosses along the edges. They were thick and round, like lush green cushions, and the water was clear. It wasn’t muddy, it wasn’t thick with pond scum. It was clear and pale green, like glass.

“Thank the gods... we’re camping here.” Chaceledon threw his hair over one shoulder. There was no force on earth nor heaven that could keep him from that bath.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta cringed slightly at the glare Chaceledon sent in her direction, a small stab of guilt shooting through her. She'd... probably misjudged. She was tired. More tired than she remembered being in a very long time, and while some part of her tried to convince herself that she'd been trying to add some levity to the moment, another part admitted that she'd been mildly annoyed by his whining, and she'd lashed out.

She eyed him for a moment, but he wasn't even looking in her direction anymore. Their journey picked back up again, and she spent more than a little while silently berating herself for her actions. She only spoke when necessary, doing her best to help guide the wagon through the wetlands so that it wouldn't get stuck.

Her weariness quickly overtook her guilt, though, and the next few hours were spent in a haze between simply trying to stay on Mau's back without the aid of a saddle and navigating through completely unfamiliar terrain. When Chaceledon brought Rations to a halt, she almost missed it, and had to double back several paces.

“Thank the gods... we’re camping here.”

Seteta nodded wearily, taking in the sight of the location. It was almost like an oasis, she realized. Perhaps it was the wetland version of an oasis, she realized. And while the water was clear, she was also relieved to see that there was a patch of earth that appeared more solid than what they'd been traversing. She took Mau in that direction, and was relieved as she slid off the mare's back--though tumbling off might have been a more accurate description--to not land knee-deep in mud.

She didn't so much crouch either as drop wearily to her knees and pressed her palms to the earth once more. She nearly sobbed with relief when the magic was there, fully, as it had been before, and once again she reached out as far as she could with the strength that she had to obscure their tracks. It was doubtful that anyone would follow them this deep into the swamps, but she wanted to be sure. When that was done, she reached out to the magic once more, and as she had done outside Vel Anir, she placed a ward around the area and tied it off, attaching it to her own awareness. If there was already anyone there, it wouldn't tell her, because she didn't know what was or wasn't out place here. But if anything new entered the perimeter, she would know. So long as the magic didn't fail again.

Then, her energy finally fading, she flopped onto her back on the ground. "I'm so tired," she whispered as Mau nuzzled her face.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon wasn’t looking at her as she flopped off the horse. He did give her a choice look, as though she were a child, and the desperate sounds disappeared from his voice. He was a dragon. If he couldn’t stay composed in this dreadful place where else could he? He grabbed the tent and marched through the mud to the moss. He felt it, sending up a small and thankful prayer it was dry, and set the tent down. He stripped bare and marched right into the lagoon like waters. Mud and filth streamed off of him, and he dipped under the water. It was deep, at least eight feet, and as wide as he was in dragon form. Gods, whatever natural Magic’s made this he was grateful for.

Rheinhard wearily sat up. He had dried blood all the way down his chin and neck, as though his bloody nose had just stopped. He blinked, seeing Seteta on the ground. She’d at least covered their tracks. They were in the Cortosi swamps. “Seteta.” He rasped, still rugged from the smoke. “Water.”

He swallowed thickly and heard the splashing. That had to be Chaceledon. But the only clean water was...he dangled an arm out of the wagon and tried his best to get her attention. “Seteta. Water.” It hurt to speak and he could taste blood.

Chaceledon sighed happily as he surfaced, taking a drink of the water. So cool! So clear! It tasted like it had come right from the underground rivers of his family’s estate! He smiled, finally rejuvenated. “Seteta come here and bathe yourself. Gods, this water is divine. I can feel myself returning...” he sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Clean. Finally clean.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta as unsure how long she lay on the ground. The earth seemed to spin and sway beneath her for a bit, and it was quite a while till it calmed enough for her to close her eyes. It was Rheinhard's voice, however much later, that roused her to action.

“Seteta.” He rasped, still rugged from the smoke. “Water.”

Water... the mere mention of it set her parched and scorched throat aflame again, and she forced her heavy lids to open, blinking at the brightness of the afternoon sky. Apparently, she'd not been unconscious for long, if she even had drifted fully into sleep.

...he dangled an arm out of the wagon and tried his best to get her attention. “Seteta. Water.”

Seteta heaved a great sigh. Where was Chaceledon? A mother should be tending to their son when they were ailing. Why was Rheinhard calling on her and not Chaceledon? With a groan, she pushed herself upright.

"The waterskins are in the wagon with you," she grumbled as she stood to her feet, feeling like she might fall over any second. "You look awful."

Seteta only looked marginally better, in that she didn't have any blood on her. But her headscarf was stained with soot and mud, and her skin was still smeared with dried mud.

She stumbled her way over to the wagon, and dug through the mess of supplies in the back until she came to the waterskins. She tossed one to Rheinhard, and retrieved a second for herself, leaning against the wagon as she brought it to her lips. They'd paused throughout the journey to give the horses a chance to eat and drink, but if Seteta were honest she'd not had nearly enough to drink herself while they put as much distance as they could between themselves and Vel Anir.

She was just about to lie down on the ground next to the wagon when Chaceledon's voice interrupted her.

“Seteta come here and bathe yourself. Gods, this water is divine. I can feel myself returning...” he sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

She sighed again, and winced as she came around the wagon to see where Chaceledon was in the first place. As exhausted as she was, she did want to make sure that... well, she wanted to be sure that he wasn't angry with her, not too much, after the mud throwing incident. That he was angry, she'd been certain of, but whether he still was...

When she caught sight of him, though, she had to blink and shake her head, uncertain of whether she was hallucinating or not. What was certain was that the sight before her would haunt her dreams--and her fantasies--for quite some time.

Slowly, but more from weariness than wariness, she approached the bank and sat down. She bent her legs, wrapped her arms under her thighs, and rested her chin on her knees, watching Chaceledon lazily as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

"I'm sorry about the mud ball," she whispered, "I was tired and frustrated and I misjudged. And I'm really tired right now too, and I hurt all over and I do want to bathe, but I don't think I have the energy to get my boots off, let alone anything else."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Rheinhard grabbed the waterskin and drained it, but that wasn’t what he’d wanted to say. He growled in frustration as she wandered toward the pool. No! He laid on his back for a moment under the heavy bearskin and the blankets. It was dry in here, and he needed a moment to gather himself. He could barely stand much less walk, but he needed to either shout or be able to get them away from that damned water.

Chaceledon grinned at her, and leapt out of the water to grab Seteta and pull her in. He kept her in his arms so she didn’t drown. “I accept your apology. Now get that filth off you so I can kiss you.” he said affectionately, reaching up to scrub away the mud off her face. He cradled her cheek in his hand, and leaned in to kiss her.

An inhuman bellow rattled his very skeleton. He looked up and past Seteta, and went pale. A bull troll stood before them on the edges of the pool, and crashed into the water. Eight feet was nothing to something twice that height, with a narrow swimmer’s frame and long, muscular arms. He was as deep green as the mosses and forests around them, with blazing grey eyes and tusks longer than Chaceledon was tall. He seized Chaceledon by the hair, and one large hand went for Seteta’s legs.

Rheinhard winced, and waited until he heard the troll take them. He’d tried to warn Seteta to stay away from the water. Why hadn’t Chaceledon paid closer attention when he was being trained to kill trolls? The damned dragon tuned out anything that didn’t involve jewelry. He’d have to track them. That wouldn’t be hard; trolls left paths like elephants.

________________

Chaceledon desperately clung to the troll’s wrist, his eyes watering. His hair was tangled in the man’s meaty fingers, and he was freezing in open air. He couldn’t even summon warmth let alone a flame. It was hard enough dodging the swamps! The troll seemed to have zero regard for their safety, and Chaceledon kept having to twist to avoid branches raking along his legs and buttocks. Seteta had it...mildly better. He had her around the middle. At least she didn’t risk getting bashed. They were crashing through the undergrowth, through leech infested water the troll seemed immune to, and over mud fields. If the troll encountered something larger than himself, he simply dipped his tusks under the mud, and flung it bodily to one side.

“If you are going to eat us I will cook you from the inside you evil bastard!” Chaceledon snarled. The troll swung his arm and made sure his tender parts struck a particularly rough Boulder. Chaceledon whimpered, the next insult dying on his throat.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta felt her stomach do a little flip as Chaceledon grinned at her, leaping out of the water toward her like some water spirit bent on seduction. She spluttered out some incoherent protest as he dragged her in, fully-clothed, but relaxed into his hold with a quiet groan. She wished the water was warm to help soothe her aching body.

“I accept your apology. Now get that filth off you so I can kiss you.” he said affectionately, reaching up to scrub away the mud off her face. He cradled her cheek in his hand, and leaned in to kiss her.

The relief that swept through her only compounded her weariness, though. She'd been more anxious than she wanted to admit, and with that nervous energy suddenly removed, all she wanted to do was rest her head on Chaceledon's shoulder and let the water carry her into weightless sleep. She let him clean her face, though, her eyes drifting shut, then pressing her cheek into his hand.

Her eyes fluttered open as he leaned in to kiss her, and then she stiffened, twisting in his arms as the painfully loud bellow echoed around them. Her eyes widened at the sight of something she'd never seen before. Truly, the most similar thing she could think of was the blue orcs of Kherkhana, but even those had not been nearly as tall. It was pulling them out of the water before she even had a chance to react, fatigue slowing her reflexes.

As its giant hand wrapped around her, an involuntary cry of pain escaped her. It was squeezing against the bruises from sparring with Chaceledon, and combined with the full night and day of riding bareback, she was was physically hurting far more than she had in a very long time.

The creature hauled them off, and she struggled to get free of its grip, or to reach her knife strapped to her thigh, but its grip kept tightening around her the more she fought, constricting her breath and her vision kept blacking out. She heard Chaceledon snarl out a threat, then heard him cry out in pain, and made one more desperate grab for her knife. The hand around her tightened sharply, a wave of pain sweeping through her, and then everything went dark and silent as she fell limp in the troll's grasp.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon couldn’t dodge every obstacle. A branch that was a mere twig to the troll smacked him across the face, and he passed out. The troll, no doubt relieved both captives were now quiet, shifted Chaceledon in his hand so he grasped him around the middle.

When the dragon woke, he ached. He was sitting on...a wood floor? He blinked and felt the ground under him. No. He felt the rings. Groggily, he lifted his head and looked around. They were on the stump of a tree, both legs tied at the ankles. The stump was huge; he could have hosted a small brunch atop it. Countless other trees rose from the mud and water around them, ancient cypresses and mangroves men would have to form chains around to gauge width.

His head was pounding. He sat up and winced, rubbing his face and reaching out to touch Seteta. There was no earth she could reach; all around the stump was water, and by the sight of their captor coming toward them, it was at least up to his thighs. If Chaceledon leapt off the stump...it would be up to his neck. He finally got a decent look at the monster.

It was definitely a bull by the long sweeping tusks, and one approaching middle age by the wrinkles around his eyes. He wore only enough clothing to satisfy modesty, courtesy of a leather apron that hung between his legs and let his thighs move freely. He had no hair on his head, only a pair of thick black eyebrows. His torso was narrow, as was his waist, with long arms that hung past his knees. Trolls could regenerate, if Chaceledon remembered properly. Any scratches he’d suffered had already closed.

The troll crouched in front of the pair, his tusks to either side of them. Chaceledon scooted closer to Seteta, and noticed her knife. He seized it from its sheath and held it aloft; he was far too cold to use a troll’s weakness to fire against him. The troll raised one bushy eyebrow at the knife.

“Touch her and you’ll regret it.” Chaceledon snarled.

“Little dragon, I wouldn’t speak to me like that.” The troll boomed in a surprisingly deep baritone. “It was you and your woman who ruined six months of work.”

“What the hell are you talking about? All I’ve heard of your kind is that you eat travelers.” Chaceledon snarled.

The troll huffed dismissively, and looked at Seteta. He nudged her. “She has been out for nearly eight hours.”

“You walked for how long?” Chaceledon sputtered.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Cold. She was so cold. And whatever she lay on was hard, and the breath of air she tried to suck in made her back and ribs fill with a stabbing pain and she sat up suddenly with a cry, clutching her arms to her torso as tears sprung to her eyes. She'd caught a glimpse of stars and moonlight when she woke, though. She must have been unconscious for hours.

Breathe, she thought to herself. Just... breathe. Slow and steady. As deep as you can.

She'd had cracked ribs before. But not because she was squeezed by a creature large enough to completely wrap its hand around her. So she sat, hunched over, for a moment, tears falling to soak into her leggings until she felt less panicked and just simply short of breath.

When she was able to open her eyes and look around through the darkness, she was greeted by the sight of Chaceledon, crouching over her with her knife upraised, and the green creature--what she could only assume, at this point, was one of the bull trolls Rheinhard had mentioned--eyeing her.

Slowly, she reached over and set a hand on Chaceledon's arm. "What's going on?" she rasped, then fell into a coughing fit. She was so thirsty, and her throat was still irritated from the smoke.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

The troll sighed, a wave of breath that smelled distinctly fishy washing over Chaceledon and Seteta. He obviously had squeezed a bit hard. He settled his elbows on his knees. “Little elf, you caused me a lot of trouble today.” He told her sternly, as though to a child. “I apologize for squeezing you, but I was quite angry.”

Chaceledon stared. “How dare you.” he snarled, sitting up and lifting his chin high. He was far too used to being taller than everyone in the room. The troll was still taller squatting than he was standing. He attempted to fix his hair and gave up in an exhausted huff. His scalp ached. Rheinhard. Where was Rheinhard? Still passed out in the back of the wagon? He hoped he’d come to soon. His boys had killed a troll before, hadn’t they?

The troll stood up. “Stay.” He told them firmly, and walked over to a tree. He scanned one, then another, and finally broke off a large pitcher plant that fit neatly in his palm. He brought it back and offered it to Seteta. It fit the troll like a wine glass; it was the size of a five gallon jug to her. “Fresh water gathers in the pitchers here.” He explained.

“We had fresh water aplenty before you showed up! First bath in a week!” Chaceledon sniffed indignantly. The troll’s expression hardened.

“That is the debt you pay. My kind make those large, clean pools. We remove venomous snakes, and predators, and fish. Add mosses to clean the water. Our women spawn there, in safety. I had several women waiting on that particular pool. You and the elf fouled it.” The troll said coldly. “It is no longer fit for use. Six months of work.”

“You could have moved it away from the road.”

“That is none of your concern. I failed to protect something precious, and now my family is in danger. Without a clean place to birth, my women might leave me for a man who can. I was upstaged by two very small creatures. This doesn’t happen. Sabotage by another male? Yes.”

Chaceledon stood up, crossing his arms furiously. “I demand you let us go.” he said haughtily, looking like the deposed prince of some distant land.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta wrinkled her nose at the troll's breath, but smiled weakly at his apology, still carefully cradling her ribs with one arm. She was touched by Chaceledon's ire, but wished he would stop talking for a few minutes.

She waited quietly as the troll stepped away for a few minutes, trying to remember everything that had happened. She remembered fleeing Vel Anir, remembered endless hours of riding through the night... remembered chucking a handful of mud into Chaceledon's face and despite the guilt she'd wrestled with afterward she was glad to remember that. Then... finding clean, clear water, Rheinhard asking for water, and Chaceledon dragging her into the pool before the troll carried them away. How long ago had that been?

Ugh, her ribs hurt.

The troll was back then, and she awkwardly reached for the pitcher plant, unsure of what exactly to do with the giant thing, let alone use the water in it. Between trying to balance it--which used more of the muscles in her torso than she would have anticipated--and trying to get Chaceledon's attention--he needed to shut up for the love of everything--and trying to hear the troll's explanation of what they'd done, she just wanted to sit down and cry, which might happen soon regardless because she could feel the muscles in her back starting to tighten and threatening to spasm.

Chaceledon stood up, crossing his arms furiously. “I demand you let us go.” he said haughtily, looking like the deposed prince of some distant land.

"Chaceledon!" Seteta finally hissed, "Come here and hold this and shut up!"

The large pitcher plant--filled nearly to the brim--was wobbling in her meager grasp, water sloshing over the sides as it tipped back and forth.

She cleared her throat, took as deep a breath as she could before she felt stabbing pain, and turned to the troll. "I am sorry that we ruined your spawning pool," she said, voice hoarse and rasping. "When you say we fouled it, what do you mean, exactly? Perhaps there's a way we can fix it."

Seteta pushed herself--very carefully--to her feet then, and leaned heavily against Chaceledon. He was too grouchy to be having any serious physical struggles from the troll's kidnapping. "I have earth," she whispered softly. "In a pouch in my coat pocket, that I gathered before we went into Vel Anir. But I don't want to use it unless absolutely necessary."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

The troll looked less than impressed with Chaceledon’s demands and turned his eyes to the drenched elf. She was in pain, and it was largely his fault. The dragon had a large bruise around his groin, but that was largely his own fault. The troll couldn’t tell if her raspy throat was because of some illness or her broken ribs, but she was at least offering to help. He would return the favor.

The troll spat mucus into his hand, which made Chaceledon cringe in disgust, and without a word gently rolled up her shirt.

“What in the god’s names are you doing?!” Chaceledon’s voice couldn’t have been more horrified if he’d bitten her head off. Instead the troll pressed the slime to her broken ribs, and hummed deep in his chest. Her magic came from the earth. His came from the water, and the algae circulating in his veins. Within a few minutes, she would feel better...regardless of how slightly disgusting the poultice was.

“We are good healers when we set our minds to be.” The troll told her. “The water was pure and clean. You washed mud from the road in it. Sloughed off skin, and hair, and sweat. You were in such a hurry, sticks and small stones now lay at the bottom. Things that can kill a child of mine.”

The dragon huffed and set the pitcher plant down between his legs. He wasn’t about to let it fall over. He crossed his arms. How strong could this clan be if their children were at danger from sticks?

The troll offered them smaller leaves, and Chaceledon folded his into a cup for Seteta. The big tusked brute actually seemed to like her. The troll seemed content to wait for them to drink and recover a moment. “I can use small hands like yours to clean other pools. Help me prepare another similar to the one you fouled, and I will let you go.” The troll proposed. “What are your names?”

“I am not about to go muck diving.” Chaceledon seethed. “I can’t imagine what sort of slave labor it would take to get any scummy pond around here cle-EEEE!” With a little shake of his head, the troll caught Chaceledon with a tusk about the hip and knocked him into the water. He fished him out a few seconds later, wailing like a very muddy kitten, and plopped him back on the wood.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta had a far stronger stomach than Chaceledon. That had been obvious since their first night on the road. But even her stomach churned a little as the troll spit up mucus. Then she stiffened as he reached for her, flinching away instinctively, but his touch was gentle this time, and while it was incredibly awkward to have a troll literally pushing her clothes away in front of her lover, she waited to see what he would do.

Shivers snaked up her spine as the troll rubbed his mucus over her torso, and part of her agreed with Chaceledon's confused exclamation, but as the troll started to hum she felt a gentle, soothing warmth around her injured ribs. She kept her shirt rolled up, not wanting to glue it to herself as the mucus dried, listening as the troll explained.

“We are good healers when we set our minds to be.” The troll told her. “The water was pure and clean. You washed mud from the road in it. Sloughed off skin, and hair, and sweat. You were in such a hurry, sticks and small stones now lay at the bottom. Things that can kill a child of mine.”

She thought over the issue for a few minutes, smiling when Chaceledon handed her the leaf-cup--how delightfully clever! she thought--and sighing with relief both to quench her thirst and as the pain in her ribs began to ease.

“I can use small hands like yours to clean other pools. Help me prepare another similar to the one you fouled, and I will let you go.” The troll proposed. “What are your names?”

“I am not about to go muck diving.” Chaceledon seethed. “I can’t imagine what sort of slave labor it would take to get any scummy pond around here cle-EEEE!” With a little shake of his head, the troll caught Chaceledon with a tusk about the hip and knocked him into the water. He fished him out a few seconds later, wailing like a very muddy kitten, and plopped him back on the wood.

If only Chaceledon would keep his mouth shut, and she shot him a scathing glance when he was returned to the tree stump.

"I am Seteta," she answered the troll, turning her attention back to him. Her voice was still scratchy, but it had greatly improved after drinking the water. "This is Chaceledon. We will be happy to help you clean your pools. I wonder though..." she hesitated a moment, having several ideas and one rather large request, and trying to figure out how to say them all without getting herself thrown in the muck like her dragon.

"It might be possible to restore the pool we ruined," Seteta said. "I can pull the dirt and sediment out of the water with my magic, and set it up to filter out the rest of the contaminants we left behind through the soil. Chaceledon seems quite adept at swimming, from what I saw, so removing the sticks and stones we deposited there should not be an issue, right Chaceledon?

"However... we do need to return to the first pool as soon as possible. We had a companion with us, and he was... not well. But he will still try to come after us, and it will be dangerous for you if he does," her tone turned somber. "Our horses were also left behind, and our companion is not in a state to care for them."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon shivered, running his hand over his face to try and slick some of the mud off. It didn’t work. He whimpered and flicked his hands helplessly, too cold to even dry the mud from his skin. He shivered and glared at the troll. He hated him. All he’d done was take a bath, which clearly this monster had never done in his life!

Be silent? Fine. He could be silent if that was what these two wanted. He lifted his nose in the air and glanced at her when she said his name, but otherwise refused to acknowledge her. The troll chuckled, a deep sound that might have been pleasing if Chaceledon wasn’t so embarrassed.

“A dragon changes his scales for no one.” He told Seteta. “I am Marahute. Your plan would work, but I fear your dragon has a point. I built in an ideal spot, but far too close to the road. Vel Anir is not far from here, and they bring with them flames and oil torches one cannot douse with water. No. We will build closer here, where I only have to worry about my own kind.”

Marahute gave another short laugh. “If he is in no state to care for horses, he is in no state to fight me. Your horses ran when I bellowed. The one on the cart broke the traces. He is going to be well occupied if he can stand.” He nodded slightly to her. “I apologize, but your friend didn’t foul my pool. You did. Do good work today, and I will bring you back. He will fend for himself until then. The water in the old pool is too foul for trolls, but a man will be able to refresh himself.”

With that, Marahute picked her up. Gentler, this time. He settled Seteta on one shoulder and Chaceledon’s muddied self on the other. The dragon scrambled to grab a pointed ear as he was suddenly vaulted skyward; the troll stood up and all of a sudden he had a vantage point.

He couldn’t see the road. Just...swamp. For miles. Chaceledon’s heart sank as they began to move again.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta quirked an eyebrow at a dragon changes his scales for no one, but made no comment aloud. Only time would tell on that front. She chewed on her lip as the troll mentioned Vel Anir. She wasn't sure how much to say, and she wouldn't break Rheinhard or Chaceledon's confidence in that way without first having cleared it with at least one of them.

When the troll reached for her again, she didn't flinch away, but she couldn't help tensing as his hand enclosed her once more. Then he was gently setting her on his shoulder, and she was scrambling to keep her balance as he stood. Somewhat hesitantly, she reached out and took hold of his ear. There wasn't really anything else to use to keep herself from falling.

"It is good to meet you, Marahute," she replied to the troll's introduction at last. "And I'm... afraid I didn't word things quite right before. It's less that our companion isn't in a state to care for the horses, it's that certain things prevent him from doing so, even at the best of times. He will almost certainly come searching for us, and... he could prove a threat to you."

As inconvenient as all of this was, she had no wish to see Marahute come to any harm. If they'd ruined something of his, something necessary for his children's survival, then they were obligated to make amends to the best of their ability.

Somewhat anxiously, Seteta twisted around, trying to see as much as she could. A quick glance at the stars helped her situate herself, and she cast a curious glance in the direction of Vel Anir. She had no idea how far away it was, but she couldn't see the glow of blazing fires. Whether it was because the city was too far away, or because they'd managed to put the fires out in the last day, she had no way to know.

And presumably, since her magic had started to work again, at least once, then perhaps the Well had also righted itself. But whether or not it was still so... was also unknown. She hadn't had a chance to try and use her magic since they stopped by the pool.

"Marahute?" she spoke again as a thought occurred to her. "Did you notice anything strange with magic yesterday? Mine... stopped working, for quite some time."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon was too indignant to speak, but he was worried about Rheinhard. The Well was both a gift and a curse, and Rheinhard was getting to the age where the spell began to become unstable anyway. Hopefully he’d pull himself together. Chaceledon had to have faith in him. They’d sent him off to wars, to fight horrific beasts in lands too far away for even Oor to help, because they’d trusted Volker’s training. The dragon had little choice but to trust it now, though Marahute’s point about the pool did settle him a little. There was fresh water, and that was first on a survival priority list.

Marahute paused for a second. “Yes, actually. I was attacked by a river lion a day ago, and the wounds took so long to heal I had to bind them. My magic did not work...but this morning my arm healed itself.” He said, frowning. “It was a disturbing thing to happen. A troll should not take that long to heal.”

He moved easily through the swamp, and seemed to be looking for something. He’d pause in spots, shake his head, and move on. Chaceledon busied himself with getting the mud off his face, but he was still the filthiest he’d ever been. He was angry, and naked, and freezing.

Finally Marahute paused at a muddy pond surrounded by what appeared to be sand bars of silt. He inspected it, and nodded. It was wide, and bowl shaped, and surrounded by trees. This was safe. “You will gather moss while I make the pool deep.” Marahute let them down into the chest-high water. Chaceledon shuddered.

“What did you say about...swamp lions..?” Chaceledon shivered.

“Do not approach any strange logs.” Marahute said, and knelt. “I will move the big debris. You get the moss. Remember what it looks like? Round, and vibrant. Do not wander far, or attempt to run. I am faster.”

Chaceledon watched as the troll plunged his head, and his tusks, into the water. He had to stumble back; the very ground was moving! Marahute lifted a gigantic log out of the muck with his tusks, hefting the weighty black wood effortlessly. His tusks were his main digging tools, but there were few sights as impressive as watching a fully grown troll fling away a battering-ram-sized log like a twig. Marahute repeated the action, and Chaceledon watched in stunned silence. He was making a pit. Dredging up huge boulders, fallen logs, even dead animals that made Chaceledon gag. All safely flung away a good distance.

“Dragon. I don’t need an audience.” Marahute reminded him, shaking mud free from the long swaths of ivory. Chaceledon suddenly felt guilty for the amount of things he’d carved from troll ivory. An exquisite set of earrings, even a chess set at some point. Troll ivory was expensive...but watching Marahute he could see how a troll couldn’t live without them. He turned away guiltily and rubbed his neck. How many times had he railed against blacksmiths using dragon hide? Or dragon teeth? And here he had been carving the tusks as though they’d never been attached to a person.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

"It was not just you," Seteta replied after Marahute spoke of his wounds not-healing. "In addition to my magic failing, Chaceledon could not breathe his dragonfire." She did not speak of Rheinhard's Well.

The only reason she could think of that her illusion magic had still worked was because she'd been drawing it from within, in a sense. The magic was activated, waiting, as soon as she began paying her toll. It was just a matter of when she either used it or released it. And it was a very small magic, overall. Whatever was going on, though... it was concerning. Being cut off from her earth magic had felt like she was missing a limb.

When Marahute finally set her and Chaceledon into the swamp--really, there was no other place to set them--she took a moment to wash off the remainder of the troll mucus and resituate her clothing. All of it--including her knee-high leather moccasin boots--was ruined, she was sure. But thanks to Marahute's magic, she could breathe much easier, even if the smoke irritation still lingered.

Seteta couldn't help but gape in awe, the same as Chaceledon, when she saw how Marahute cleared the area with his tusks. She tugged at the dragon's arm after a moment though, trying to get him to come help her with the moss, but he was thoroughly entranced despite being covered in mud and so she just smiled and began to gather the moss herself.

A little while later, she heard Marahute chastise the dragon, looked back to see a strangely guilty look on Chaceledon's face, and carried her pile of moss over to join the other piles she'd gathered. "There's a nice path of moss over there," she told Chaceledon, nodding over her shoulder in the direction she'd come from. "Be gentle with it."

"I can help with shaping the pool," Seteta called up to Marahute. "If my magic works, at least. Just tell me what to do, what it needs."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Marahute nodded. “I appreciate the help. A pool should be deep, kidney shaped, and clear with soft sides of mud. The water must be clear, and clean, with no fish. The moss will keep it filtered, it I would normally have to do it all by hand, lifting buckets of water and cleaning them in the sun.” He explained. He examined the moss Seteta brought, and nodded in approval. Those would do fine. He began arranging them in the shape he wanted around the borders of the pool, his tusks scraping the sides to start shoring up water. The mosses created a barrier, filtering water as it flowed in from other parts of the swamp without carrying in predators like fish.

Chaceledon fetched a globe of the moss, and looked at it. Honestly...the color was quite pleasant, and the way Marahute was planting it around the edges reminded him of the koi ponds kept by dragons. It was...clever. He carried over the moss and began helping shore up the barrier. If he remembered it wasn’t just a layer of one or two plants, but several feet wide around the pool. Enough for a man to lounge on. This would take a while. He sighed and began his work, peeling off a large mound from a tree.

Marahute helped Seteta. Despite his size and the strength of those tusks, he was very gentle with them. He was accurate enough that he could catch her by the arm if she stumbled, without skewering her. Chaceledon felt guiltier and guiltier, and he quietly tapped into his magic. He ducked behind a tree, washed his hands, and gingerly reached into his pocket dimension.

The necklace he pulled out was fit for a king. Glimmering ivory and silver fan blades arranged on a beautiful chain hed made. He’d designed it for a noble elf, and the fanned ivory was meant to sit right on her collarbone. He palmed it, and approached the troll.

“I suppose I owe you an apology. I...admit I’ve bought and used troll ivory for jewelry before.” He held out the necklace, taking a deep breath. Well, either he was about to die here, or the beast would take the necklace. Marahute frowned, and took it in his hand. He gave it a hard look.

"I could tear your head off for this, right here and now."

"I know." Chaceledon swallowed thickly. "Just didn't feel right keeping it in my pocket."

"Then I will show you what to do with such pieces. The pool can wait." Marahute knelt down, and offered his shoulder to Seteta, then to Chaceledon. The dragon winced. Oh gods, this again. He clambered up uneasily, and grabbed the troll's ear when he stood up again. Whenever he did that, Chaceledon couldn't help feeling like his stomach was about to drop through his rear.

Thankfully, the troll didn't bring them far. Less than a quarter mile through the trees, was a gigantic cypress. It was big enough to dwarf the troll, and had...thorns? Chaceledon peered at it as they drew closer. Not thorns. Skulls. Skulls with long, sweeping ivory tusks. Various weaponry was hung in vines around the tree, and some pieces had been there for so long the tree had swallowed them altogether, leaving only the tusks peeking out. The tree reached so high that it disappeared into mist above the swamps. Gods, it made Chaceledon feel tiny.

"This is a clan tree. We bring our dead here. I don't know which man fell to make that bauble, and it is probably not my clan...but it will give his spirit some peace." Marahute pointed out, and stepped close enough. He wound the necklace around a smaller branch within reach.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta nodded at Marahute's words, then knelt at the edge of the yet roughly-shaped pool and plunged her hands into the mud. She sighed with relief when she found the magic waiting for her. It only took a few moments for her to refine the shape of the pool, especially since Marahute had removed the large debris. Another few moments, and the suspended clay and soil within the water swirled into itself, sank to the bottom of the pool, and slowly crept up the sides. She closed her eyes, brow creasing with concentration as she made one more adjustment, and then she opened her eyes and looked at Marahute with a smile.

"The sides will stay in place now, no matter what," she said. "And even the roughest of play or disturbance will not cause the mud to dissolve into the water. But it is still soft and pliable, and will give at a touch."

Then, maintaining her connection to the magic partially for convenience and also because she was slightly worried that if she stopped the magic might not be there the next time she reached for it, she followed Marahute around the pool, tweaking small portions of the pool at his guidance. At some point, she looked up, glancing around for Chaceledon and slightly worried when she didn't see him right away. Then she spotted him coming out from behind a tree with something in his hand, and she tilted her head curiously as he approached.

“I suppose I owe you an apology. I...admit I’ve bought and used troll ivory for jewelry before.” He held out the necklace, taking a deep breath. Well, either he was about to die here, or the beast would take the necklace. Marahute frowned, and took it in his hand. He gave it a hard look.

Seteta's eyes widened at the sight of the necklace. She'd seen ivory before--heard of troll ivory specifically and its superior quality--but now was not the time. What did Chaceledon even think he was doing? Taunting Marahute? Did he want to die?

The troll would have never known, and it wasn't like Chaceledon could bring the other troll back to life. As Marahute investigated the necklace, Seteta watched the troll closely, ready to intervene--magically or otherwise, whatever she had in her--should Marahute decide that Chaceledon should pay for this with his life.

"I could tear your head off for this, right here and now."

"I know." Chaceledon swallowed thickly. "Just didn't feel right keeping it in my pocket."

"Then I will show you what to do with such pieces. The pool can wait."

Seteta's relief was nearly palpable when Marahute did not tear Chaceledon's head off his shoulders, nor even attempt to. The dragon may not be her mate, not yet, in the strictest sense of the word, but even if they were making amends for an actual wrong committed, there were limitations. What Chaceledon was trying to do was admirable, but the timing was exceedingly foolish.

She wondered if Marahute could feel her hands trembling as she climbed back onto his shoulder when it was offered.

The tree nearly took her breath away. She'd never seen one so large, even in Falwood.

"This is a clan tree. We bring our dead here. I don't know which man fell to make that bauble, and it is probably not my clan...but it will give his spirit some peace." Marahute pointed out, and stepped close enough. He wound the necklace around a smaller branch within reach.

It was a somber moment, and not one she felt qualified to comment on. So all she did was lift a silent prayer to Abtatu, asking for the troll's spirit to be guided to whatever would bring him peace.

Chaceledon