Chapter 4

Returning Home

(13501 AC)

            The man was dressed as a merchant when he wandered into the darker, plder section of Prezel Vale.  He was carrying on him a large sum of money, though he knew how to defend himself in case of some rogue decided to snatch his load.  He passed by elves sleeping on the bare earth, not caring of where they slept or how they smelled.  The truly uncaring lived in the oldest parts of the Vale.

            The truly uncaring and those who needed uncaring discretion.

            Sallet was waiting for the arrival of Thelek for five minutes in the dark section of the Vale and had received two threats of violence for standing around in a place where nobody dared to.  The violence was easily dissuaded by a shining morning star, a mace with sharp points extending from it.  Sallet's magic weapon dissuaded many people in it's day.

            Two people approached the High Cleric slowly.  One was as tall as he was, the other obviously shorter.  As the taller one came into the light, he signalled something to Sallet with his hands.  Sallet simply nodded.

            “Ah, Sallet, I see you have managed not to die down here.  People do that, you know…die here.”  Sallet simply shrugged.  Any response would have been the wrong one.

            “What is this, Thelek?  A quiet elf?  Mine eyes must deceive me!”  Granki pointed at Sallet.  "I had no idea I'd be seeing two wonders this night."

            “Save your tongue, dwarf, or you shall be without it,” the cleric spoke as he drew a dagger from his robe.

            In a flash Granki had drawn a dwarven waraxe and had made good use of it by disarming the dagger from Sallet’s hand.  “Oh, I think I’ll be having yours, treeling.”  Granki was holding the axe level with Sallet's knees.

            “Silence, both of you!" Thelek shouted.  Stepping forward, he asked, "Sallet, where is the gold?”  Holding his wrist he pulled the burlap out of his pocket.  Glaring at Granki, he unfolded it and turned it upside-down, spilling the contents on the alleyway.  Thelek scoffed.

            “Your money, as promised,” Sallet spoke defiantly.  “This had better be worth the risk I put myself into for this. The Clerics will not be pleased to hear what…”

            “The Clerics be damned!” Thelek responded with fury.  “You can be replaced, Sallet.  Do not give me a reason," the governor said, moving his hand to his sharp saber.  Convinced that Sallet was on a leash, he started to collect the coins from the ground.  He motioned the dwarf to do the same.

            Once the coins were all gathered again, Sallet started walking away.  "Sallet!" the governor yelled at his back.  "I'm not finished with you yet.  When will you deliver the next shipment?"

            "Three weeks, as agreed."

            "I need it sooner."

            "Then it will be a third lighter."

            "Fine.  Two weeks, Sallet.  Granki, we are leaving.”  Thelek turned and walked away.

            Granki picked up the fairly heavy bag of coins.  “Looks like the boss wants you to live,” he sneered at the Elf.  “Too bad, really.  I’d have enjoyed killing you.”

            Sallet spat in the Dwarf’s face.  “You sicken me.  Get out of my sight.”  Granki simply smiled and walked away.

* * *

            Avarion had made some great speed back home.  Not having seen the way in five years he managed to make several wrong turns until he saw the Prezel River he was so familiar with.  He followed it back, looking to the past days he spent with his master and mentor.  He had learned the way of the bow, but only just.  His master was adamant about better instructors, and he was now on the quest to find them.

            He could see the night-lights of Prezel Vale on the horizon.  The lights were familiar but foreign, like a world left behind.  He ventured on forward, looking down on the quiet landscape below.  The forest sounded so serene.

            He enjoyed his first flight into the city again.  It was a new experience.  Most of anyone in the city knew him at least by reputation.  He was training under Enzerran and had been recommended by Bregaros.  He had skill and had displayed it at the tournament.  He looked back on that day and smiled.

            He could see the East Vale Temple already, standing brightly among the trees.  The East Temple was always the brightest, emulating the rising sun.  It made a beacon of home for the Valelanders.  It made a promising landing place for Avarion.

            He landed far from sight as not to attract attention.  His mission was stealth.              Sneaking up on an old friend required a lot of skill, especially when you have feathered wings on your back.  Avarion took a cloak from his pack and threw it over his wings and shoulders, hiding most of them under the cloth.

            He walked in the front door and dropped three gold coins in the near-empty coffers.  A man praying quietly nearby heard the dropping coins and looked up.  Avarion nodded to him reverently and walked into the chapel.

            The sound of a blade being drawn was heard only slightly by the astute winged Elf, but he heard it nonetheless.  “Your money or your life,” the other Elf had said.  Avarion stopped and bowed his head.

            “Thievery in the Temple is punishable by death,” Avarion spoke just loud enough to be heard by the Elf.  “Garantus Dea’s will be done.”  The thief took two steps more toward Avarion.

            The surprise was on him.  Avarion had spread his wings to their full span, blowing the cloak directly back towards the thief.  The thief ended up blinded by it for a moment, struggling to see his would-be victim.

            When the thief finally turned around he saw what it was that caused his moment of blindness.  Before him stood Avarion, rapier drawn, wings at full span, and a fury in his eyes that could not be equaled.  The thief dropped the dagger and turned for the door.

            He caught the solid head of a mace to the chest, and dropped to the ground.

            “Funny us meeting like this, Avarion!” Amerye said to him, looking down at the gasping thief.  “It is always trouble with you.”  He stepped over the thief and embraced Avarion tightly.

            “You know, it was always me bailing you out, if I remember,” he retorted.              The two separated and looked each other over for additional scars or marks that could tell of an injury of sorts.  You look well, Amerye.”

            “As do you.  When did you get back?” he asked, picking up the dagger from the ground.

            “Just now, actually.  I was coming to surprise you.  Looks like the surprise was on me.”  Avarion sheathed his rapier and recovered his cloak.  “What about him?” he said. Looking at the still-gasping thief on the ground.

            “The constable should be here soon.  I sent an acolyte to bring him.”  Amerye took some cloth from a table and bound the thief.  He then walked to the coffers and counted the coins.  “Three gold?  That is quite a lot for you.”

            It’s back-tithing. I have been gone five years, making very little.  This is a start.”  Avarion looked to the altar at the front of the Temple.  “I have been given a great task, Amerye.”

            “Task?” Amerye muttered.  “But you have only returned.  Now you must go again?”  He looked at his friend, one he hadn’t seen in five years, and shed a tear.

            “No, Amerye,” he said, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “I wish to stay a while before I go again.  I will not be leaving for at least three years.”

            Amerye wiped his eyes and smiled.  “Good.  You still owe me for saving your life tonight.”

            “You must be joking!” Avarion replied. “I could have easily taken him.  He almost soiled himself when he saw me standing there!”

            “You are mistaken.  He knew he was caught when he saw me there.”

            “Oh?  I doubt that.  Your mace hit him after he turned around.  He never even saw you.  How do you explain that?”

            The two went on for an hour.  They locked up the Temple and proceeded to a tavern where they enjoyed some of the finest ale they could afford.  The night turned to day, and the two decided to head off to sleep.

* * *

            Thelek took the brown bag of money, emptied it onto a table, and counted it twice.  After tabulating the platinum and gold disks he had over a thousand gold worth of coins.  “Good,” he spoke with an almost giddy voice.  “This is more than sufficient.  Granki, I want you to take three hundred disks and hire me a scout.  Make sure this scout is better than my last one.  It seems he was killed by a whelp of a boy.”

            “Of course,” Granki answered right away, twirling a dagger in each hand.              “Anything else while I’m out?  I’m growing bored of this lackey business.”

            “You are getting paid enough,” Thelek replied.  “Just do your job.  No attention, remember?”  Granki grunted a remark in his Dwarven native tongue and nodded.  He stood, took the coins, and walked for the door.

            “Oh, Granki.  What would you say if I offered to hire you on for another month, say, at double the current rate?”

            Granki ran his rough hand through his braided beard.  “Maybe.  We’ll see soon enough if it’s worth the money.  Treat me right and it’s a deal.”  He walked out of the cellar, heading for the tavern.

            “I will treat you right, Dwarf,” the governor spoke under his breath.  “Right into the underworld if you are not careful.”

            Thelek waited for the door to close tight, and proceeded to a small desk where he pulled a very small book from one of it's well-kept drawers.  He thumbed through it's pages until he found the last written page.  He took the quill on the desk, dipped it in the vial of ink sitting beside it, and scrawled in the latest take.

            He nodded in agreeance.  "This additional money is almost all I need to meet his price," he spoke quietly under his breath.  "Then this city will fall like the whelp it is."

* * *

            Avarion was up before first light, training with his bow just like every morning the five years before.  He first would go and cut five flawless arrows from the trees, fletch them with his own feathers, and tip them by simply cutting the wood shaft into a sharp point.  This was usually done before first light even thought of rising, and more often than not he never had to fly far to do it.  Of course, sometimes he'd actually climb trees to do it, but those days were uncommon at best.

            This morning was unlike any other.  He had made his five arrows, fletching them properly, cutting the point as to not disturb the flight of the arrow, and ensuring the weight was right for the range.  Each arrow was almost exactly like the others, bearing an almost flawless sight.

            Taking his first arrow Avarion went looking for breakfast.  "The use of the bow is as complex as you make it, Avarion," he heard from hos old master in an old memory.  "If the task is easy, so should your skill with it.  Hunting, though ancient in form, is as complex as the world, the memory went on.  "Become part of it, and that complexity will become simple."

            After five fears he had hunted almost all of the small game there was around the Vale.  He hunted only to eat, and even then the hunt was usually just barely enough to settle the hunger.  This morning was going to be a feast in comparison.

            Taking to the sky, Avarion looked for something that was large enough to feed three and wild enough to make the hunt a challenge.  He flew from end to end of the Vale and found animals aplenty, either too small or too large.

            His search was about to end when out of the corner of his eye he saw what he was looking for: a large, wild rabbit.  The rabbit was bounding along across the plains minding it's own business, of course, looking for it's own morning meal.              Avarion saw a lot of sport in this, especially first light was just now starting to color the Eastern skies.  He flew another two hundred feet higher, looking down at the bounding bunny as it walked the plains.

            He pulled his bow and strung it, followed with the nocking of an arrow, one of the five he had made only two hours prior.  He took a feel for the wind, for the clouds, and even for the grass that waved around the rabbit on the ground, which he could barely see.  After taking all of these factors into account, he finally drew his bow back, aiming at the rabbit.

            The arrow loosed, flying quickly for the rabbit.  Avarion watched this as if it had been in slow-time, and as the arrow struck, the rabbit took off like lightning.              "Here we go!" Avarion said quietly under his breath, and started the chase.

His eyes never left the rabbit, though there were times that it was hard with the lack of light.  He swooped down, trying to stay behind the creature but he met with limited success.  The rabbit knew he was being pursued and was dodging left and right at random.

            Avarion had sent a second and third arrow flying but both missed their target, but only by an inch each time.  The rabbit was determined, and Avarion saw his only hope for breakfast running away.

            The fourth arrow was closer yet.  If Avarion were to have stopped, he would have noticed a very small amount of fur on the arrow.

            He slowed down, watching the rabbit run into a small hole in the ground, and decided that it was going to be a long, breakfast-free day once again.  He was used to them, though he had learned early that it was easiest to get them on the first shot.

            Although he had been taught that a true bowyer must use his natural skills to hunt, Avarion had learned also that magic lends a hand in places where skill alone is not enough. 

            He landed a short distance from the hole the rabbit went into.  He picked up a small stone and hurled it into the hole, and he watched as the rabbit ran.  He cleared his mind, thinking into the future only a few seconds, looking for a weakness in the rabbit's movements that would give him an edge to shoot, and he found one.

            He took to the sky again, finding the right place as he saw it.  He drew his bow back, preparing his last arrow to fire, and he sighted in on the exact place he was to shoot.  He waited for the exact moment to loose the arrow.

            Just as he was to release a rock hit him in his drawn arm, loosening his grip on the fine silk string.  The arrow loosed, striking the ground only inches from the rabbit.

            "I hope you're happy, Amerye.  There goes breakfast."  Avarion turned around and saw his friend smirking.  The two of them broke out in a fit of laughter.

            The two of them discussed the day's labors and decided that this task of Avarions could wait until after lunch.  They discussed the changes within the Vale, from the new shops to the increased tourism, to the occasional adventurers that wandered through.

            "It must be a strange way to live out there," Amerye spoke softly to Avarion.  "Look at them.  They go a week without a bath, eat dried food, and spend time in taverns getting information on their next great adventure.  Who would want to live like that?"

            Avarion was watching a pair of adventurers, joking around with each other.  They were dressed in brown leather, each carrying a braodsword on their hip.  Each one looked rugged, almost dangerous, but he was looking to the way they lived.  He was starting to see the call of the road.

            "I would," he replied, almost vacantly.  Amerye stopped midstride with his mouth agape from the reply.

            "We've known each other for a long time, Avarion, and I would never have thought you to be the adventuring type.  Whimsical, yes.  Spontaneous, yes.  But this is different!" Amerye declared to his friend.

            "I am different, Amerye," Avarion responded defensively.  "I have been gone five years.  I have learned so much about what it means to have purpose.  You have known purpose for almost ten years, and only in the last five have I truly discovered mine."  Avarion stood up and walked towards the adventurers.

            One of them looked at Avarion, puzzled at first but nonetheless unconcerned.

            "Well met," Avarion introduced himself.  "Why do you adventure, if I may ask?"

            The two men looked at each other and then back at Avarion.  The dark-haired man with several scars on his face answered first.  "I adventure because I like to travel," he answered with a deep but confident voice.

            The other man, a golden-haired man dressed very well, answered next.  "I travel the continent for tales worthy of song and drink," he replied in a melodic voice.  "Why is it that you ask?"

            Avarion smiled.  "My friend does not quite understand the way of the adventurous people.  I myself have only started to feel the call of the road, so to speak."

            "I see," said the dark-haired man, rising to his feet.  "Dumas Rohedrin of Ydras Thei," he greeted Avarion formally.  He extended his right hand.

            "Avarion Windseeker of Prezel Vale," Avarion responded in turn, grasping the man's hand.  "A pleasure to meet you."

            "Indeed, friend.  Allow me to introduce my friend, Elaras," he spoke cheerfully.  Elaras and Avarion shook hands.  "Without a doubt the most melodramatic and inspiring man on the roads today."

            "Well, melodramatic may be a bit exaggerated but I must admit that without me he'd be a holeless bar louse on the forever hunt for a woman, or was it a man?"  Elaras ducked, tucked, and rolled past Avarion and was back on his feet in a flash.  Dumas shook his head, smiling.

            "It was two women, and they drugged me before they took my coinpurse.  I swear it!" he added.  "I remember no pleasure that night."

            Avarion looked at both men.  "Allow me to introduce my closest friend, Amerye.  A full-fledged priest of Garantus Dea he is, and a fine one at that."  Amerye glared back at Avarion.

            "A pleasure," Dumas spoke flatly.  "You seem put off by us, Priest.  Do we offend you so?"

            "Not offend," Amerye spoke in return.  "I simply do not understand why you do what you do.  Avarion spoke of purpose.  What is yours, If I may ask?"

            Dumas looked at Elaras and Avarion in turn, turning his head back to Amerye.  "I adventure because it is all I have.  My father was killed when a band of marauders swept through our village.  I was but a boy, barely able to place his sword upon his gravestone at his funeral.  I travel to avenge that death."  Dumas looked to the ground, his right hand grasping the pommel of his sword.

            "What my friend means to say is that we adventurers travel because a purpose is given to us, not found by us," Elaras added.  "My purpose is to spread knowledge and song throughout Artana."

            "My purpose is to serve Garantus Dea," Amerye replied quickly, as to defend his calling.

            "And what if Garantus Dea tells you to adventure?" Elaras quickly replied, slightly smirking.

            "Then I go," Amerye answerd sternly, not liking the though of actually being sent to adventure.  "I will answer the calling of my church."

            "There we have it.  Purpose given, not purpose found!" Elaras hollered gleefully.  "Now you have an idea as to what we live for."

            Amerye stood with a bewildered puzzlement on his face for a few moments.  Pondering the thought of actually being sent on an adventure slightly altered his perception of those that actually did wander.  "I see your point."

            Elaras nodded.  Avarion saw a change in his best friend in moments, realizing, for the first time, that his quest would not be a solo one.