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Description
Waking Up

Lana woke to the feeling of a warm body snuggled against her back and a heavy arm holding her close.

She smiled, cuddling closer to the firm warmth behind her, searching for his hand, squeezing it softly.

Casavir, my love.

Something in the back of her mind tried to get her attention. She frowned, still half asleep, trying to catch the thought.

Again, it was the scent she recognised first.

Earthy, musky, spicy, under a layer of soap...

The smell of the woods, a wild smell.

Bishop.

And as every morning, the realisation of Casavir’s death hit her hard. She drew a shaking breath, forcing down the ever ready tears.

I won’t cry.

She felt Bishop stir behind her, his hand reaching up to stroke her hair. And the first tear trickled down her face.

He moved back a bit, seizing her shoulder, turning her to her back. He reached out, his finger tenderly wiping away the tear from her cheek.

“Want to tell me about it?”, he asked, softly.

She stared up at him, his mahogany hair even messier with sleep, a concerned expression on his face, the amber eyes full of sympathy. The blanket had slipped down, revealing broad, tanned shoulders and a well-muscled chest.

Even in her saddened state of mind, he made her breath catch.

By the pits of hell, he’s gorgeous.

She averted her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it”, she said, thickly.

“You always seem to be there for me if I need comfort”, he said. “The least I can do is return the favour.”

She just shook her head frantically. No, no comfort. She did not need comfort. She did not want comfort. If she accepted comfort, she just knew the dam inside her would break, and heavens knew when she would be able to stop crying again.

“No!”, she said, forcefully. “I don’t want to talk about it! Savvy? So shut up already.”

“If that is what you wish... as long as you know that I’ll be there, if you want me to.” His voice was soft, compassionate, his hand stroking her hair again.

She kept her face away from him, still fighting the tears, not wanting him to see.

He ran his fingers through a strand of her red locks.

“They do feel as silky as they look”, he said, in wonderment.

Suddenly, he was much too close. She threw back the covers, preparing to jump out of the bed.

“Wait”, he said, grabbing her arm.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Let go, wolf boy”, she said.

This time he did not comply. “Not until you heard me out”, he said, shaking his head.

“Let. Go.”, she growled.

“Listen”, he said, “still holding on to her arm. “I said I won’t try anything, and I won’t. I just wanted to say...”, his voice faltered, and he swallowed. He let go of her arm, running his fingertips over her cheek instead.

“Lana”, he said softly, as if tasting the name on his tongue. “I... I think I’m falling in love with you.”

She felt her eyes go wide and the colour drain form her face. She slipped out under his hand, retreating backwards from the bad, fervently shaking her head, making her red locks fly around her face.

“Oh no”, she said, a hint of panic in her voice. “No, no, no. Don’t. Just don’t!”

He watched her retreat, not moving after her. “I can’t help it”, he said, sadly. “I know you don’t even like me much, and I really understand why. I also know that there is someone else, someone who is not here, someone you cry for. But I still can’t help it. I don’t expect anything from you. I... I just wanted to tell you.”

Panic welled up in her in earnest. And she did what she always did when she could not handle a situation. She lashed out.

“Well, I wish you’d kept your gob shut”, she snarled. “I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t want to know. You’re not in love with me, you hear? You’re not even capable of loving someone. I’m the only link to your past, is all. We’ll just have to get your past back, and then you can be on your merry way, and I won’t ever have to clap eyes on you again!”

She saw a hurt look cross his face in the split second before he looked away. “Fair enough”, he said, his voice very soft. “I won’t bother you with it again.” He got up, taking his shirt from the chair next to his bed, pulling it over his head. His hands shook slightly.

She flopped down on her bed, staring at the ground, refusing to look at him while he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Half an hour later, Lana had worked up enough courage to leave the room and go down into the taproom. Enough courage to face Bishop.

She did feel guilty for ripping his head off like that. But the more she thought about it, the more she came to the conviction that it had been the right thing to do. To make matters abundantly clear, leaving no room for misunderstandings behind. Better to quash any ideas in his head before they caused more difficulties. To nip things in the bud.

Still, she might have been a touch nicer about it.

She spied him, sitting at a table, two plates with eggs and bacon on it, untouched. Her hands grew moist, and her mouth dry instead.

By Asmodeus’ blood!

This was ridiculous. She resolutely walked up to the table and sat down opposite to Bishop. He did not look up, but picked up his fork and started shoving the egg around on his plate.

She suddenly did not feel hungry anymore. But she’d be damned if she let him see that. He might get the wrong ideas. Might think she regretted what she’d said to him.

So she pulled her plate and shovelled a forkful of egg into her mouth, forcing herself to swallow.

“Listen”, she said, trying to sound nonchalant about it. “I’ve been thinking. You said you remember Garius saying that if you wanted your memories back, you have to bring him back?”

He nodded, wordlessly, still playing with the egg on his plate.

“So”, she said, “let’s bring him back.”

That made him look up at last. “What?”, he asked, incredulously.

“Well”, she said, “we do have that Resurrection scroll, so thoughtfully provided by your dear friend Jaluth. And we don’t have a better use for it. So we can bring him back. What do you think?”

His eyes narrowed a bit. “He died in the Vale of Merdelain. You want to go there, try to find his body?”

“No”, she said. “The whole thing collapsed after we killed the King of Shadows. The corpse is buried good and solid.” Her heart clenched as she thought of the other bodies buried there.

“Then, how do you propose to bring him back?” His voice was still reserved, cool.

She chewed another fork of egg, proud of herself for thinking of it. “What we killed in the Vale of Merdelain was the Shadow Reaver Garius had become. Garius himself we killed – and buried, I like to say – at Crossroad Keep.”

“I don’t see what that gains us. He sure wanted to be brought back as the Shadow Reaver.”

“Yes”, she said, triumphantly. “I think that’s what he wanted.”

He sighed, shoving his plate away for good. “You’ll excuse me if I really don’t have the patience for riddles right now.”

“Spoilsport”, she said. “What he did say in your head was just to bring him back, wasn’t it?”

He shrugged. “Yes.”

“So”, she said, “that’s what we’ll do. Bring him back. Garius. The human.”

He stared at her. “You think that will work?”

“Count on it, wolf boy”, she said. “A Geas is a tricky thing. You have to be real careful how you phrase it. It does not care for what you meant, it just works with what you said. So if Garius told you to bring him back, we’ll bring him back. As in human. And then, we can deal with him again.”

He smiled thinly, and that smile was eerily reminiscent of the Bishop of old. “Oh, I would love to deal with him”, he said.

An hour later found them leaving the Gilded Horseshoe, on their way south again. Since their discussion at the breakfast table, Bishop had been silent. Lana had considered trying to talk to him, to lighten up the mood a bit, but had refrained from it in the end. Maybe it was better that way. Probably. If it had not made her feel so damn guilty...

They walked in silence, out of the hamlet, into the surrounding grassland with the cattle and horse farms. After some minutes, the usual grey blur emerged from some bushes and pounced Bishop. He stumbled backwards, but managed to stay on his feet.

“Easy, boy”, he said, smiling genuinely for the first time that day. He knelt down, grabbing Karnwyr’s ears and rubbing them. “Missed you too”, he said. He hugged the wolf close for a moment, then got up again and proceeded down the road without looking at Lana.

Karnwyr came to her, licking her hand. She patted his head. “Hello, furface”, she said.

She had to admit even to herself that her voice sounded sad somehow.

They walked on, the silence stretching between them. Planning how to go on had helped to gloss over the breach between them for a short while. But now, as it was decided what was to be done, it made itself felt clearly. Bishop would not look at her, would not talk to her besides the most basic necessities.

She could not even blame him for it. She had been rude.

More than that, she had been cruel.

Now that the panic his confession had elicited was gone she had to admit she had handled the situation badly. As she often did. She really was not big on the tact and diplomacy. Not her strong side. Never had been. She was much better at burning problems with brimstone fire until they went away.

She kept throwing glances at him as they walked. He held himself some paces ahead of her, so mostly she could see his back. He sometimes glanced over his shoulder to see if she kept up, but that was about it. Other than that, he did not acknowledge her existence.

Karnwyr initially bounced around them, yipping and excited, but after some time the mood seemed to rub on him, and he got quiet, trotting along, often looking from one to the other as if wondering what was wrong.

Well, what wasn’t wrong?

Somehow, her life really seemed to go downhill at a furious pace. She had lost Casavir. She had run away from her duties at the Keep. She had been caught by the queen of the loonies and thrown in with Bishop, who was not really Bishop anymore. She had managed to substantially hurt his feelings, and now they were on their way to get his memories back, so they could part ways. After she somehow had grown used to his company.

And then she would be on her own again, with really no plans and no purpose. And nowhere to go.

Oh yes, life was swell.

Come evening, Bishop found a sheltered place to camp at a rocky outcrop, covered by some trees. They rolled out their bedrolls, Bishop started a fire, and they sat in silence once more, munching on the pies the Gilded Horseshoe sold as provisions for the road.

According to the owner of the inn, those pies were one of their specialities and should be a delicacy. As for Lana, they could have been made of wood shavings. They somehow turned to ash in her mouth.

She kept peeking at Bishop, but he still avoided her gaze, staring into the fire, stroking Karnwyr’s fur. And the guilt she was feeling kept growing by the moment. Kept building and building until it threatened to flow out of her ears.

Fine, I give. I give! I’ll apologise!

But even with that decision, finding words seemed really hard. She opened and closed her mouth for a couple of times, starting to speak and ditching the sentence she was about to say again.

It was him who spoke first. “I’ll take first watch”, he said in a neutral voice. “I’ll wake you for second. Go to sleep.”

Well, now or never, was it?

“Look, I’m sorry”, she mumbled, staring at the ground.

There was a silence, stretching for endless seconds.

“For what?”, he eventually said.

“For what I said, of course”, she snapped, already getting impatient. She really was not good at apologising, did he have to make it even harder by playing stupid? “What do you think I meant? I should not have said that. I did not mean it.”

Silence again. Then: “Yes, you did. You made yourself clear. I said I won’t bother you with it again, and I won’t. Don’t worry, I’ll live. We’ll resurrect Garius and then you won’t have to see me again. Unfortunately, I can’t use the scroll, so I appreciate your help. Apart from that, you don’t have to put up with me. Now go to sleep, your watch is on in three hours.”

“Fine, be that way!”, she said, throwing herself onto her bedroll. “I’ve tried!”

With that, she rolled to her side and pretended to go to sleep, fuming silently. If he wanted to be stubborn and childish, that was his decision. She had tried, she had. Had even apologised! If he still wanted to sulk, that was not her problem anymore. Her conscience was clean.

Sure.

In a dark room, maybe three day’s marches away, Jaluth got up from her stuffed chair in front of a small table. On the table was a large crystal ball, showing the image of two persons next to a small fire, underneath a rocky outcrop with some trees growing on top.

She let her hand run over the smooth surface of the crystal and the image vanished. A delighted smile curled her mouth.

“Very good, my children”, she purred. “I knew you would figure it out. Now make good use of that nice scroll I left for you. That’s an expensive spell. You better not waste it, or I might get testy.”

She went over to her desk, lighting a candle, then started to sort through the parchments there.

“Now”, she said, “where did that Teleportation scroll go? It has to be here somewhere...”

Description
Waking Up

Lana woke to the feeling of a warm body snuggled against her back and a heavy arm holding her close.

She smiled, cuddling closer to the firm warmth behind her, searching for his hand, squeezing it softly.

Casavir, my love.

Something in the back of her mind tried to get her attention. She frowned, still half asleep, trying to catch the thought.

Again, it was the scent she recognised first.

Earthy, musky, spicy, under a layer of soap...

The smell of the woods, a wild smell.

Bishop.

And as every morning, the realisation of Casavir’s death hit her hard. She drew a shaking breath, forcing down the ever ready tears.

I won’t cry.

She felt Bishop stir behind her, his hand reaching up to stroke her hair. And the first tear trickled down her face.

He moved back a bit, seizing her shoulder, turning her to her back. He reached out, his finger tenderly wiping away the tear from her cheek.

“Want to tell me about it?”, he asked, softly.

She stared up at him, his mahogany hair even messier with sleep, a concerned expression on his face, the amber eyes full of sympathy. The blanket had slipped down, revealing broad, tanned shoulders and a well-muscled chest.

Even in her saddened state of mind, he made her breath catch.

By the pits of hell, he’s gorgeous.

She averted her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it”, she said, thickly.

“You always seem to be there for me if I need comfort”, he said. “The least I can do is return the favour.”

She just shook her head frantically. No, no comfort. She did not need comfort. She did not want comfort. If she accepted comfort, she just knew the dam inside her would break, and heavens knew when she would be able to stop crying again.

“No!”, she said, forcefully. “I don’t want to talk about it! Savvy? So shut up already.”

“If that is what you wish... as long as you know that I’ll be there, if you want me to.” His voice was soft, compassionate, his hand stroking her hair again.

She kept her face away from him, still fighting the tears, not wanting him to see.

He ran his fingers through a strand of her red locks.

“They do feel as silky as they look”, he said, in wonderment.

Suddenly, he was much too close. She threw back the covers, preparing to jump out of the bed.

“Wait”, he said, grabbing her arm.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Let go, wolf boy”, she said.

This time he did not comply. “Not until you heard me out”, he said, shaking his head.

“Let. Go.”, she growled.

“Listen”, he said, “still holding on to her arm. “I said I won’t try anything, and I won’t. I just wanted to say...”, his voice faltered, and he swallowed. He let go of her arm, running his fingertips over her cheek instead.

“Lana”, he said softly, as if tasting the name on his tongue. “I... I think I’m falling in love with you.”

She felt her eyes go wide and the colour drain form her face. She slipped out under his hand, retreating backwards from the bad, fervently shaking her head, making her red locks fly around her face.

“Oh no”, she said, a hint of panic in her voice. “No, no, no. Don’t. Just don’t!”

He watched her retreat, not moving after her. “I can’t help it”, he said, sadly. “I know you don’t even like me much, and I really understand why. I also know that there is someone else, someone who is not here, someone you cry for. But I still can’t help it. I don’t expect anything from you. I... I just wanted to tell you.”

Panic welled up in her in earnest. And she did what she always did when she could not handle a situation. She lashed out.

“Well, I wish you’d kept your gob shut”, she snarled. “I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t want to know. You’re not in love with me, you hear? You’re not even capable of loving someone. I’m the only link to your past, is all. We’ll just have to get your past back, and then you can be on your merry way, and I won’t ever have to clap eyes on you again!”

She saw a hurt look cross his face in the split second before he looked away. “Fair enough”, he said, his voice very soft. “I won’t bother you with it again.” He got up, taking his shirt from the chair next to his bed, pulling it over his head. His hands shook slightly.

She flopped down on her bed, staring at the ground, refusing to look at him while he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Half an hour later, Lana had worked up enough courage to leave the room and go down into the taproom. Enough courage to face Bishop.

She did feel guilty for ripping his head off like that. But the more she thought about it, the more she came to the conviction that it had been the right thing to do. To make matters abundantly clear, leaving no room for misunderstandings behind. Better to quash any ideas in his head before they caused more difficulties. To nip things in the bud.

Still, she might have been a touch nicer about it.

She spied him, sitting at a table, two plates with eggs and bacon on it, untouched. Her hands grew moist, and her mouth dry instead.

By Asmodeus’ blood!

This was ridiculous. She resolutely walked up to the table and sat down opposite to Bishop. He did not look up, but picked up his fork and started shoving the egg around on his plate.

She suddenly did not feel hungry anymore. But she’d be damned if she let him see that. He might get the wrong ideas. Might think she regretted what she’d said to him.

So she pulled her plate and shovelled a forkful of egg into her mouth, forcing herself to swallow.

“Listen”, she said, trying to sound nonchalant about it. “I’ve been thinking. You said you remember Garius saying that if you wanted your memories back, you have to bring him back?”

He nodded, wordlessly, still playing with the egg on his plate.

“So”, she said, “let’s bring him back.”

That made him look up at last. “What?”, he asked, incredulously.

“Well”, she said, “we do have that Resurrection scroll, so thoughtfully provided by your dear friend Jaluth. And we don’t have a better use for it. So we can bring him back. What do you think?”

His eyes narrowed a bit. “He died in the Vale of Merdelain. You want to go there, try to find his body?”

“No”, she said. “The whole thing collapsed after we killed the King of Shadows. The corpse is buried good and solid.” Her heart clenched as she thought of the other bodies buried there.

“Then, how do you propose to bring him back?” His voice was still reserved, cool.

She chewed another fork of egg, proud of herself for thinking of it. “What we killed in the Vale of Merdelain was the Shadow Reaver Garius had become. Garius himself we killed – and buried, I like to say – at Crossroad Keep.”

“I don’t see what that gains us. He sure wanted to be brought back as the Shadow Reaver.”

“Yes”, she said, triumphantly. “I think that’s what he wanted.”

He sighed, shoving his plate away for good. “You’ll excuse me if I really don’t have the patience for riddles right now.”

“Spoilsport”, she said. “What he did say in your head was just to bring him back, wasn’t it?”

He shrugged. “Yes.”

“So”, she said, “that’s what we’ll do. Bring him back. Garius. The human.”

He stared at her. “You think that will work?”

“Count on it, wolf boy”, she said. “A Geas is a tricky thing. You have to be real careful how you phrase it. It does not care for what you meant, it just works with what you said. So if Garius told you to bring him back, we’ll bring him back. As in human. And then, we can deal with him again.”

He smiled thinly, and that smile was eerily reminiscent of the Bishop of old. “Oh, I would love to deal with him”, he said.

An hour later found them leaving the Gilded Horseshoe, on their way south again. Since their discussion at the breakfast table, Bishop had been silent. Lana had considered trying to talk to him, to lighten up the mood a bit, but had refrained from it in the end. Maybe it was better that way. Probably. If it had not made her feel so damn guilty...

They walked in silence, out of the hamlet, into the surrounding grassland with the cattle and horse farms. After some minutes, the usual grey blur emerged from some bushes and pounced Bishop. He stumbled backwards, but managed to stay on his feet.

“Easy, boy”, he said, smiling genuinely for the first time that day. He knelt down, grabbing Karnwyr’s ears and rubbing them. “Missed you too”, he said. He hugged the wolf close for a moment, then got up again and proceeded down the road without looking at Lana.

Karnwyr came to her, licking her hand. She patted his head. “Hello, furface”, she said.

She had to admit even to herself that her voice sounded sad somehow.

They walked on, the silence stretching between them. Planning how to go on had helped to gloss over the breach between them for a short while. But now, as it was decided what was to be done, it made itself felt clearly. Bishop would not look at her, would not talk to her besides the most basic necessities.

She could not even blame him for it. She had been rude.

More than that, she had been cruel.

Now that the panic his confession had elicited was gone she had to admit she had handled the situation badly. As she often did. She really was not big on the tact and diplomacy. Not her strong side. Never had been. She was much better at burning problems with brimstone fire until they went away.

She kept throwing glances at him as they walked. He held himself some paces ahead of her, so mostly she could see his back. He sometimes glanced over his shoulder to see if she kept up, but that was about it. Other than that, he did not acknowledge her existence.

Karnwyr initially bounced around them, yipping and excited, but after some time the mood seemed to rub on him, and he got quiet, trotting along, often looking from one to the other as if wondering what was wrong.

Well, what wasn’t wrong?

Somehow, her life really seemed to go downhill at a furious pace. She had lost Casavir. She had run away from her duties at the Keep. She had been caught by the queen of the loonies and thrown in with Bishop, who was not really Bishop anymore. She had managed to substantially hurt his feelings, and now they were on their way to get his memories back, so they could part ways. After she somehow had grown used to his company.

And then she would be on her own again, with really no plans and no purpose. And nowhere to go.

Oh yes, life was swell.

Come evening, Bishop found a sheltered place to camp at a rocky outcrop, covered by some trees. They rolled out their bedrolls, Bishop started a fire, and they sat in silence once more, munching on the pies the Gilded Horseshoe sold as provisions for the road.

According to the owner of the inn, those pies were one of their specialities and should be a delicacy. As for Lana, they could have been made of wood shavings. They somehow turned to ash in her mouth.

She kept peeking at Bishop, but he still avoided her gaze, staring into the fire, stroking Karnwyr’s fur. And the guilt she was feeling kept growing by the moment. Kept building and building until it threatened to flow out of her ears.

Fine, I give. I give! I’ll apologise!

But even with that decision, finding words seemed really hard. She opened and closed her mouth for a couple of times, starting to speak and ditching the sentence she was about to say again.

It was him who spoke first. “I’ll take first watch”, he said in a neutral voice. “I’ll wake you for second. Go to sleep.”

Well, now or never, was it?

“Look, I’m sorry”, she mumbled, staring at the ground.

There was a silence, stretching for endless seconds.

“For what?”, he eventually said.

“For what I said, of course”, she snapped, already getting impatient. She really was not good at apologising, did he have to make it even harder by playing stupid? “What do you think I meant? I should not have said that. I did not mean it.”

Silence again. Then: “Yes, you did. You made yourself clear. I said I won’t bother you with it again, and I won’t. Don’t worry, I’ll live. We’ll resurrect Garius and then you won’t have to see me again. Unfortunately, I can’t use the scroll, so I appreciate your help. Apart from that, you don’t have to put up with me. Now go to sleep, your watch is on in three hours.”

“Fine, be that way!”, she said, throwing herself onto her bedroll. “I’ve tried!”

With that, she rolled to her side and pretended to go to sleep, fuming silently. If he wanted to be stubborn and childish, that was his decision. She had tried, she had. Had even apologised! If he still wanted to sulk, that was not her problem anymore. Her conscience was clean.

Sure.

In a dark room, maybe three day’s marches away, Jaluth got up from her stuffed chair in front of a small table. On the table was a large crystal ball, showing the image of two persons next to a small fire, underneath a rocky outcrop with some trees growing on top.

She let her hand run over the smooth surface of the crystal and the image vanished. A delighted smile curled her mouth.

“Very good, my children”, she purred. “I knew you would figure it out. Now make good use of that nice scroll I left for you. That’s an expensive spell. You better not waste it, or I might get testy.”

She went over to her desk, lighting a candle, then started to sort through the parchments there.

“Now”, she said, “where did that Teleportation scroll go? It has to be here somewhere...”