Fable - Ask Silver and Gold, Worth Feathers Untold

[Hector]

Marannie nod slowly. Her eyes fluttering. "Just, remember," her head bobbed.

The mist swirled all the thicker about them.

"Longest branch..." Hector yawned. "Points to the truth,"

Marannie had slumped in on herself. Curled around the warm bundle of Plinket, who's head flicked, this way and that.

Kremly was snoring.

"Gods," Hector tried to say through tired eyes. Stilled his rowing some, as the little fire at their prow fizzled and blinked. A moment there, a moment gone. "I can hardly keep my eyes open," he confessed. Rubbed under his eye with the back of a gloved hand that was starting to feel too sweaty about his fingers.

Something flapped it's wings overhead.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

"Shh," she went.

Lorinna lifted her oar out of the water. she nodded at Hector for him to do the same. The boat drifted silently. She reached out a hand and used a trunk to slow them down.

She should have felt guilty kicking a child. It wasn't really a kick. More of a nudge with one toe.

Lorinna pressed a finger over her lips and pointed upwards. The flapping had stopped. She couldn't be certain, but she felt there was a silhouette of one of the giant. Jrds up above them.

 

[Hector]

The sharp shush cut through the fog. He blinked, and through heavy lids, lifted the oar. Arms heavy, he peered about him.

Kremly was out. Marannie slumped over, even as Plinket raised his little head up to sniff at her face. The boat lurched some. The shift in weight felt more in his gut than his head.

Marannie made a sound as Lori nudged her, Plinket scurried around her and hid beneath the folds of her shirt.

A yawn. First from the girl, then from Hector. Though his was kept quiet. Quiet enough to hear the subtle creak of branch, and the soft tap of talons come clutch across bark and wood.

The mist was thick as soup around their boat. Wisps of white curled languid and long. As if alive, the tendrils of haze wrapped around Hector and Marannie. Tickled their noses.

While he still could, Hector raised his arm to cover his nose. Cover his mouth. Felt his eyes aflutter. Felt his head grow heavy. He lulled in his seat.

Marannie was snoring. Plinket jumped onto Lorinna's lap.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

"Plinket..." Lorinna protested.

She felt the cool kiss of the mists. She rowed back and forth, arms aching from the exertion. The boat gently bumped into an old tree stump that came out of the water at an odd angle.

Why was she rowing?

Where was she rowing?

She blinked once, then a second time. Her eyelids felt heavy. She closed her mouth and breathed in and out through her nose.

Lorinna's arms fell to her sides, the oar came to rest across her lap. She fell into sleep.

 

[Hector]

A snap of branches, the hollow knock of dry wood plunk across bough and trunk as it fell to the roots. A wet bloop of water. Hector's head wobbled. Lulled. Fell slumped between his shoulders, oar still in hand.

A crook, gurgle and croak. "Oh, well," branches shook, needles rustled and a pinecone fell with a bassy thunk. " a right score this, a right score," The voice sounded a near mockery of common speech. Words clear, but strained and shrill with an odd excitement.

The mist dissipated as the ship came to rest against a bank.

A darksome shape landed on the wet earth, avian talons spread through the mire, half covered by bottomless boots. Oil colored feathers fluttered out with a strong flap of wings, that bent and curled, as if fingered, before they folded up at its side, neat and nearly gone against its dapper silhouette.

It was a tall rook like being. Bout half the size of Lori and Hector, were they to stand. Halfway between bird and a person, its large eyes seemed fixed on the gleam of pommels and quillons.

"Good steel, good steal," it said happily. pecked at the sword rested in the hull.

Plinket, wide eyed and horrified, scrabbled his little clawed feet, and sank his teeth just bellow the knuckle of Lorinna's thumb.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

"Get to fuck!" Lorinna cried out, sitting bolt upright. Her other hand slapped at the rotten ferret, but it had darted out of her reach.

She felt the warm blood running down the inside of her palm. Then she felt the gentle rocking of the boat beneath her.

Recent events came crashing down as she looked up at the dark, feathered silhouette.

Lorinna reached very slowly for the pommel of her sword.

 

[Hector]

Hector started up. Saw Lori. Smiled. Muttered. Something about the cold. Mumbled, and felt his eyes fall shut once more. Heavy from the drowsiness borne from the mist.

What wasn't asleep, was the wide eyed thief, who stared at the squire. The sheath of her long sword, snatched between its white beak.

"Wake?" its hollow voice came in a croak from the back of its throat. Its yellowish eyes blinked. "Wake," it repeated, its beak clatter trapped against the hard case of the weapon, its neck, pulled strong to try and wrench the weapon free from her hands. "I take!"

Little claws scratched at Marannie with a desperate need.

Hector moved more as the boat shift.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

"I take!"

"You bloody don't!" Lorinna called out.

She was strong, but the creature had a lot of weight. It used it to shake from side to side and made her lose her footing.

She kept one hand on her sword. It was a family heirloom. She wouldn't let this beast fly away with it.

"Hector!" she called out, kicking him in the side of the leg.

 

[Hector]

A shout had Hector stir again. A kick saw his eyes spring open, head cocked back.

Lori in a tangle, a dark shaped thing, twisted and flapped. "I take! I take!" It squawked and crooked.

Hector looked down at the oar in his lap, and up at the thing. Didn't think twice before he grabbed it up and walloped the creature over the top of the head with a crack!

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

Lorinna felt the grip on the sword being released. She felt back into the boat with a thud.

She felt a flash of fear. She imagined herself tumbling over the edge and having to hold her breath long enough to shrug off her light armor vest and swim to the surface.

She found herself with her knees on the seat and her head in the back of the boat below them.

The creature's inky black eyes couldn't roll back, but the whole bird staggered.

"Hit it again if it tries to get away!" She said, trying to pull herself up.

 

[Hector]

A double take. To Lori, to the bird creature.

Steady enough, legs bent, weight balanced and shift with the motion of the boat. The darkling flapped and stumbled and squawked as his eyes took measure, and his fingers gripped tight.

"Away! Awake! Away!" It shout, its sharp talons scratched and kicked at the wooden side of the boat, and its wings spread wide as it hopped about.

The creature crooked and warbled and scrambled as it tried to flee. Hector's arms reared back, full with a hot strength, wrists loose, as he-

Sharp knocks sounded quick against the wood. Hector heard it before he saw what made them.

"Marannie!" he called, as the girl stopped between the creature and the squires. "Marannie get out of the way, that thing is dangerous!" he said, sure, with the oar's head up high, weight ready to fall.

But Marannie stood tall, and sure, arms splayed wide before the creature that seemed to scrabble behind her and shake. Little crooks and croos came from its throat as its wide eyes peered about.

"He's just doing his job!" She puffed. Scowled. "I know him," she let them know.

Hector's brow quirked. A huff of breath let out some of the heat in his blood. The will of fire he was so quick to call on these days. His arm eased down. He let the oar fall to his side as he watched the girl and the creature. Gave a nod.

A moment of quiet that sounded with frogs and bug wings.

A loud snore from Kremly ripped through the night. Still failed to wake.

Marannie looked to Lorinna. No doubt in her eye, she took a small knife from her own belt, a well made thing, blade good for skinning and carving, but not much else, and she looked back to the creature.

Held it out, rest between two palms. "Here you are, Cruhk,"

Cruhk stared at the little knife. Looked to Lorinna, then Hector. Wide eyed with worry. "Good steel," he said, and hobble hopped onto the rail of the boat. Grabbed up the knife with its long beak. "Good deal," it said with a little bob of body and head.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

"You are a stubborn fiend," Lorinna said of Marannie.

It was impossible to tell if this was said with respect or out of annoyance. Or both. Lorinna did not know herself.

She pulled herself back up. Moving to one knee, rather than sitting down. She could at least spring into action from this position. The size of the bird didn't matter; if it threatened the girl she would run it through where she guessed it's heart would be. Birds had weak, hollow bones.

Marannie looked to Lorinna. No doubt in her eye, she took a small knife from her own belt, a well made thing, blade good for skinning and carving, but not much else, and she looked back to the creature.

Held it out, rest between two palms. "Here you are, Cruhk,"

Cruhk stared at the little knife. Looked to Lorinna, then Hector. Wide eyed with worry. "Good steel," he said, and hobble hopped onto the rail of the boat. Grabbed up the knife with its long beak. "Good deal," it said with a little bob of body and head.

Lorinna silently thought about what she might have to add to the offering if it was required. Was Cruhk a guide or a guard, she wondered. It had put them to sleep easily enough.

"What next girl?" Lori hissed, glancing at Hector.

 

[Hector]

"You are a stubborn fiend," Lorinna said of Marannie

A wan smile crossed Hector's lips. "Worse traits to have," he assured the young upstart, his eyes shift to Lorinna, an easiness there despite the weight of magic born fatigue that still pulled at his strings. "The stubbornness to do what you feel needs be done,"

Marannie gave a small little smile come Hector's encouragement. A shakiness still there in her eyes as she looked again to Lorinna.

"What next girl?" Lori hissed, glancing at Hector.

She near start, but smoothed the fray of her nerves with a nod, whilst Cruhk stood idly by, the long spade of their beak, pointed at Hector, eyes wide and expectant.

"Y-you, you must give him something, something of value, something, well, shiny tends to help," her lips quirked up at the corners, the line of her mouth a nervous wriggle.

Cruhk made a sound that rolled and rumbled like agreement. "Steal, or deal," came the sound of a chirrup. "Less, less, you turn into a meal,"

"Oh, hush, Cruhk, that's not helping none,"

A sound like throaty laughter came harsh from the strange bird being as it hopped along the railing, and its talons scrapped and scrabbled along the edge of the craft. It stopped, sudden and sharp, and its head ticked radially as its dark eyes gleamed with a curious greed.

Hector quirked a brow as he eased down the oar. He had kept his kit light, left most of it back in the inn before they had sat down to eat.

He had his sword, the blade-wand an heirloom in its own right. Too precious to part with.

A nudge came at his side. He looked down and saw Marrannie, Plinket's furry white body there on her shoulders. "I know where he stashes them," she whispered, then grinned, then remembered herself. Nod, and stepped away.

Cruhk's head ticked the other way, and another little rumble came from his throat.

"Well then," he said, and looked down to the weapon he had stashed against the sides of the hull. Bent down and picked it up, pulled the blade from its sheath which gave the bird a start. It flapped its wings and settled back upon its current perch, crooked its head to see the sheath and sword in turn. "For both of us," he said to the creature, and offered up the sheath first. "Amberglass inlay, you see," he smirked with pride. With a tilt of the scabbard, the inside of its maw gleamed and sparkled, almost as if little flames danced within.

Hector sheathed the blade, and heald it up to Cruhk.

"Good deal?" the elf asked the crow being.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

Lorinna, by comparison, was not going to trust the whispers of a small girl. She might have known where the bird stashed it's shiny possessions, but Lorinna didn't even know when they would get a chance to go there. She wasn't about to risk a sword that had belonged to her family.

Her eyes widened at Hector. He handed over something finer than her blade. Human made steel, she trusted it for its familiarity and valued its sentiment more than its inherent value.

Lorinna had a small purse at her waist. She kept one there and one tucked away. It kept pickpockets busy. She took the whole thing from her belt and jangled the copper and bronze coins.

“And these too,” she offered, turning some into her palm and then tipping them back into the bag.

Cruhk tilted one beady eye towards them both, appraising the gifts.

“Good deal.”

“What now?” Lorinna murmured out of the side of her mouth towards Marannie.

 

[Hector]

With a lift and a bob, Cruhk picked up the coins first. Stashed them...somewhere beneath the cloak of his wing, then turned, hopped along the boat's railing, and snatched up the sword. Tucked it neath the other wing, though its bright hilt, and the adornments upon its scabbard gleamed too true to miss.

A squak from the crow being. "Good deal!" he affirmed, hopped, up and up and flew away into the fog laden night.

Marannie looked to Lorinna, hopped out of the boat. "We follow!" she said with some excitement, and feathers trailed soft through the air as they fell to the earth. She turned, and hurried after.

Hector let out a breath, took in a deeper one. "Right, just... follow them into the fog," he laughed. Groaned some. "This'll make a story,"

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

Lorinna reminded herself that they had a true priority here. They had no idea if Ser Herzog was alive. Next to that, why was she quibbling about a piece of steel, no matter its sentimental value?

They had also made their quest even longer. They would have to find Cruhk's stash before they left too.

The fog clung to her skin, to her clothes. Lorinna kept on rowing, even as her shoulders burned from the effort. Eventually they pushed through into more clear air. She paused to turn to look over her shoulder. The ground rose up out of the swamps.

She might have expected just an array of nests above them. Instead the boat gently hissed as it grounded on the shore of what was possibly a large island. Tendrils of mist wove through the trees. She heard the sound of corhuk, saw a whisp of smoke - rather than mist - rising.

"How many of them can speak common?" She asked Marannie. She made no move to get out and drag the boat up the shore. Not until she had a plan.

There was something that even Lorinna could sense about this place. Something strange.

 

[Hector]

Maranie stopped to ponder the question.

Hector looked over at the still sleeping guard. Would he be alright? He looked back to Lori and Marannie, looked up to the trails of smoke that rose against the silvery grey of the sky.

"Doesn't look to be night, or day," He said idly as he hopped out of the boat and onto the soft earth. He grabbed what little he thought useful on the boat. A loop of rope, a mooring hook, and a rusted old fish spear.

Marannie stared at him with a frown for that. Hector blinked, and set it back down. The girl gave a proud little harumph with her nod.

"Only a few can speak it," she said to Lorinna, turned her head to regard the tall heroine "The Elder and his family, the Lady Morningsong, and their sons, Faetrick and," she grew smaller then, a secret reason that had her face flush red. "Twinli,"

Hector cocked a brow. "And, Cruhk?" Started to grab up the mooring line to help hitch the dinghy.

She remembered herself. Nod quick little nods. "Cruhk! Well, he only half speaks it," she said with a smile. "But he's getting better, I think," she looked back to Lorinna. "Most Corhuks can make sense of our speak though," she smiled, wistful as she stared off to the distance. "Can make sense of most speech, really, if Twinli tells it true,"

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

Lorinna set out to follow the girl, but she ensured that there was a little space between them. She glanced at Hector again.

"Do you remember when we were choosing what fish to eat?" she asked.

By which she meant: this all escalated far too quickly.

Lorinna had been particularly focussed in her training. She came here prepared for a rescue mission. Steel and strength to rescue their friend. This was becoming a strange journey into another world with a requirement for diplomacy.

"Remember," she said quietly to Hector, "They took our friend. She's still a child."

 

[Hector]

Steady, and sure, Hector followed after, head keeled toward Lori as she gave voice to her concerns.

He nod. "Already feels like an entire season's gone by,"

All that transpired now. Their original task, to tend to the ties with Altamar, and supplicate their support in the form of a Rider. Seemed a distant memory.

But there turned the two sides of their shared coin.

Hector's training burried in the archives, the library. Mentored in the ways of Magick and the Wyld. His mind full of stories and legends, of which he'd been taught to sift through and find those seeds of wisdom that sprouted betwixt fact and fantasy.

Good stories were powerful tools. Needles with which to weave peace. Just as likely to inject venom.

He nod. "I have not forgotten," he replied in the same hushed tone. Steel in his voice that spoke to his readiness to do what needed be done. "But, she seems, different, Lori," Hector vouched, as they moved through the wylds at their steady clip.

Though, might have been his being raised in the order. Having seen what youth were capable of, from early on.

Might have been his fool's heart too. Warm and overly trusting. His little war within himself only showed on the furrow of his brow. He nod. "Herzog," he confirmed.

That was their priority now. To rescue their fellow knight.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

The girl did seem different. Not just overly bold in approaching the knights, something Lorinna would not have dared to do at that age. It seemed like she felt more comfortable here than back at home.

But, Lorinna reminded herself again, she was still a child. Naive and easy to manipulate.

"Herzog," Lorinna agreed.

They marched on and time seemed to drag on and yet not pass at all. Suddenly, steel did not seem like the immutable ward that could protect her against anything. She walked a step closer to Hector.

A shadow flashed overhead from behind them. Her hand went to the hilt of her sword.

The shadow fell ahead of them.

She started to run as she heard a chitter of a language she didn't understand, followed by Marannie pleading.

"No Cruhk already stopped us, they can be here!"

A figure towered over the girl. Three pairs of beady eyes turning towards Lori. She decided she must have imagined that, and focused on the girl.

"Marannie, come back over here," Lorinna hissed. She walked forwards slowly, one hand on her sword.

 

[Hector]

Tall was the figure that loomed over Marannie. The girl, small before the broad form, stood straight backed, chin raised, with her hands balled into fists at her side. Trembling.

Even as the storm of clatters and squawks noisied about her, Marannie stood tall.

"I've already told you, Korvo, they paid the toll! Cruhk's-"

Three sharp spades cocked toward the snap of branch and approach of foot. Beady eays, behind long beaks all pointed at Lorinna, gathered there in the shadow of a red cowl.

Marannie blinked. Slow as it dawned on her. "No, wait-"

A gust of wind, sudden as a wingbeat, blasted out from the cloaked figure, as all three of the mouths let out a terrible screech!

Marannie covered her ears and cowered away from the sound. Squeezed her eyes shut as she shook her head.

The figure was almost a man, there before Lorinna and Marannie. A shape like steel blade, long in its black scaled and taloned hand. Dark feathers, sprout where hair might be.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

Lorinna did not draw her blade, not fully.

She drew it just a few inches. Enough for a soft, threatening whisper. Enough for the blade to catch the light.

She might have screwed up her face at the sound but she did not back down.

"Korvo, is it?" Lorinna asked.

Two more strides and she was alongside Marannie. Her right hand remained on the handle of the blade, but her left came to rest upon the girl's shoulder.

 

[Hector]

There was a swirl of mist about them. As if a curtain had been drawn betwixt them and the world just beyond.

Cruhk, even Hector, absent from the stage.

The three heads snapped with tilts and twists as six eyes gleamed, and ebon beaks shone with wicked curves of light. A string of clatters. Squawks. Harsh and unforgiving. Unconcerned.

The sword in the being's hand was held firm. Point, aimed at the ground. Still as stone in his hand.

A dauntless warning.

The head to Lori's right cocked with a thought, as the head at the center raised its beak, hackles flared with challenge. The head to Lori's left cawfed. Clacked. Horked.

"You- dare?" it rasped from its throat. "You dare?!" the head which spoke clicked, with avian quickness.

The head to the left. Trilled. Snapped. "Korvo," came the name. A bob from its head.

"Korvo," the centermost head, evened its gaze, and pointed its beak, long and sharp toward the squire. "Prince of the Mire Winds," a clatter, from its beak.

Still, the long sword in its clawed grasp, stayed still. With nary a sway.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

It turned out to be a difficult challenge in choosing where to settle her gaze. Anywhere from three to six eyes glaring down at her at any one time. A voice always coming from just one beak.

Prince of the Mire Winds

Her expression shifted. It was a small change. Her thumb drew back from the hilt of her sword.

A prince. He was nobility. Her upbringing suggested that everyone titled had to follow some kind of rules of engagement and decorum. Or else how could they hold their lands and titles if they did not hold themselves to better standards?

"Lorinna Astarel. Daughter of Baron Astarel and sworn Knight. I would not be expecting a Prince to be making such a noise and waving a sword at a small girl. I would expect better."

 

[Hector]

A cock of three heads that corkscrewed away from the heart. Left head and right head hooked out. While that head center most, turned upside down. Feathers fluffed and raised.

A squawk, a crook, and a trill. "Astarel?" The center head asked, high and sharp, as it seamed to wind itself tighter, there in the shadows of its hood.

The right head blinked. "An old name," it whispered and twist inward.

"A strong name," the head to the left declared with a sharp tick that showed its beak long against the red of their cowl.

The sword in the Prince's hand moved, only so much as a bob of breath, before it broke into a flutter of black feathers. Scattered to the winds. Only a branch there, left in the Noble Creature's hand. A green leaf there at the end of where a pommel might be.

"No small girl, Astarel," the center head said.

"Intruder!" said the head to the left.

"Daughter of Baron Astarel," whispered the head to the right.

Marannie, peaked out from behind Lorinna. "I, I brought her here,"

The three heads cawed and crooked. Shook with a fit. But the body moved calm, and hooked the branch into the loop of its belt. All the pomp of a Lord there in how they bristled. While the heads squabbled and rabbled. Till the center-most head pecked and squawked at the other two, ushering in their silence.

Left and right humbled themselves, came still and low with bows. Satisfied, Center shook, and huffed. Rose itself up as it eyed Marannie behind Astarel.

"Steel," he hissed. "Fire," it clacked. Shook a quick shake. "Not welcome here,"

---

Beyond the mist. Hector cursed at himself, stumbling about the brambles and the vines that seemed to tangle thicker all around him.

"Lori!" he called out. Eyes wide as he scanned the silvery darkness. "Marannie!" he cursed beneath his breath. Felt a snag against his arm. Yanked, and yanked, only to have the tangle vines thorns snap, and smack him across the face.

Something like a laugh came from above. A sound like wings, beat against the air.

"Roots and boughs," he muttered between his teeth.

Lorinna Astarel