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Description
The Short Way Home

How to get to the Teleport scroll to use it?

That stayed the price question, the whole miserable day Bishop dragged her through the woods. Lana simply could not think of anything. This time, he kept her going ahead of him, watching her diligently. He had released her feet, and standing up, she might have been able to fumble the bag out of her breeches, get the scroll out with her bound hands... but he did not leave her a chance. Did not leave her out of his sight for a second.

Damn him!

Oh, after another hot and sweaty day traipsing through that blasted wilderness, she was angry at him. She would have loved to beat some sense into his thick skull with an oak cudgel. Damn his lone wolf act!

Together, they might have found a way, might have come up with a plan to get out of this scrape. But he had made it more than clear that there would be no “together” anymore. That there was just him and her and of the two of them, he liked himself better.

It made her want to kick his ass from here to doomsday.

But she also was sad, no denying that. Even the anger could not drown out the sadness. Why did it have to be like this, when she knew it could have been so very different? Had been so very different?

She missed the companionship of the days past. Missed the laughter, the banter, the closeness. Missed the warmth and the tenderness. Missed his touch, the comfort.

Damn, damn, damn!

And even though she knew he was sacrificing her to save his own hide, she could not help but feel pity. The image of his mangled skin, of the horrors Jaluth had inflicted on him, was still fresh in her mind. Maybe his old self was better equipped to deal with the hussy than the kinder, softer version she had come to like, but he still would suffer incredibly.

He might not break under the darkness Jaluth would make him go through, because he carried enough darkness in himself not to be horrified at certain things. Not to despair under the realisation of what he was capable of doing. Because he just plain did not give a damn.

But he still felt pain, and he still would suffer under the indignities, the humiliation, the torture, and the loss of his freedom. The freedom he valued so much.

No one deserved to be treated like that. Not even him.

On the other hand, even with the sadness and the pity, there was no way in hell she would let him drag her back into that cage, into the clutches of the loony queen. Not if she could help it. Not if the companion of the last days was irrevocably lost to her.

So she trudged through the woods, her head down, thinking as hard as she could. Bishop was at her heels, sometimes directing her with curt, clipped words, making her wonder how he knew where to go if he had lost the memory of their flight from Jaluth’s mansion. But she would bite off her own tongue before she asked.

Karnwyr trotted at Bishop’s side, and when they paused, she could sometimes see the wolf throw his master questioning glances. Often, the animal would look at her as if she would be able to provide an answer.

Which, unfortunately, she could not. Even if she had been sure what the question was.

Come evening, she was so tired it bordered on exhaustion. She had not had any sleep last night, not counting the unconsciousness; she had been hit hard and her face still ached, and she had had another day of crawling through bushes. She felt like she was ready to drop. Still, she would be damned if she let him see any of this. Clenching her teeth, she continued walking, even if every step seemed to send a painful jolt up her aching legs and into her mangled jaw.

Finally, he called out to her to stop walking. Lana turned to face him, her chin up, defiance in her eyes.

“We’ll stay here for the night”, he said, setting down his pack. She waited, standing, not saying a word, for him to untie her hands so she could set down her pack, too. Maybe, if she was quick, she could...

He came over to her, stepping behind her, starting to work on the rope that bound her wrists.

“Keep still, or I’ll make you regret it”, he said.

As soon as she felt her hands come free, she whirled around, stepping back, and reached out to her powers.

Quick as lightning he followed her, grabbing her wrists just as she started to weave the eldritch strands into the pattern that would allow her to move so much faster, holding her hands in an iron grip above her head, pinning her to the tree behind her with his body to keep her from moving.

“Now, Captain”, he said, his brows drawn up. “I said I was going to make you regret if you tried anything like that.”

The low purr in his voice sent a shiver down her back. He was close, so close... she could feel him pressing against her, and she could smell his earthy scent, musky, spicy...

Again, images of his naked body next to hers came to her mind, memories of the sleekness of his skin, his hot breath in her ear.

She swallowed, closing her eyes to get a grip on her reactions.

He leaned forward, making her feel the warmth radiating from his body even more. “What”, he whispered into her ear, and she could have sworn there was laughter in his voice. “Am I affecting you, Captain?”

She swallowed again, repressing another shiver. “Yes”, she answered, forcing her voice to sound calm, even managing to give it a biting note. “You’re making me feel nauseous.”

Now he really laughed. She could hear the low chuckle next to her ear, feel the slight shaking of his body.

“I remember why I offered to run away into the woods with you”, he said, sounding genuinely amused. “You’re never boring, I’ll give you that. Now, be a good girl, take off that pack and let me bind your hands without forcing me to hurt you again. You know I will do it if I have to, but I would prefer to get some rest.”

She opened her eyes again, now that she trusted he would not see anything she would not like him to see in them, and found him looking down at her with a glittering smile on his face.

She gnashed her teeth. Bastard! How dare he laugh at her?

He chuckled again at the sparks shooting at him out of her green eyes. “Hells, such a temper. You really were wasted on the tin can. Should have taken me up on my offer. I would have known what to do with so much fire.”

She gasped in fury, wanting to slap that slimy grin from his face so much she jerked against his grip, but in vain. “Don’t speak of him!” she hissed. “You’re not worth the muck under his boots!”

His face got thoughtful, and his gaze travelled over her face, lazily. “Such a temper”, he repeated, as if talking to himself. “ His eyes ended up on her mouth and lingered there. “But I think I would have been able to handle that.”

Why, that presumptuous, arrogant, snot-nosed...

She got very still under the pressure of his body, and slowly, a cruel smile tugged at her lips. “Well”, she said sweetly, “I think you’ve got a very temperamental woman waiting for you, wistfully. Let’s see how you handle her.”

His eyes snapped back to hers and she felt satisfaction to see that all traces of arrogance and self-assuredness were gone, leaving only naked fear behind. Then the nondescript expression was back, and he drew away a bit, turning her in one swift motion, wrenching her hands to her back painfully in the process.

She could not stop a pained noise from escaping her while she found her face pressed into the rough bark of the tree.

“Enough of this”, she heard his voice, cold now. “Move, and you’ll regret it. You’d do good to believe me this time.”

And somehow, she did. So she kept still while he took off the pack she still carried and bound her hands behind her back, telling herself that patience was the better part of virtue. She would bide her time and wait for her moment to come. No sense in provoking him even more. She would wait and when the time came, she would be the last one laughing.

The angry knot in her stomach did not want to believe her, but she got the better of it. For now.

So she remained outwardly calm while he bound her again. She even managed to keep quiet while he hand-fed her later, refusing to release her hands so she could eat. He fed her morsels of bread and held the water skin to her mouth so she could drink.

She really felt like biting his fingers but managed to repress the childish impulse.

It helped that he was cold and matter-of-factly about the whole process, not talking, not looking at her more than necessary, no innuendo. Her comment about Jaluth really had put a damper on his spirits, it seemed. She still felt a grim satisfaction about that. It might have been a petty comment, might have been deliberately cruel, but he had it coming.

A bit of his own medicine was exactly what he needed, and she was happy to serve.

Later, she lay on her side, her hands still behind her back in a more than uncomfortable position, longingly thinking about the scroll she carried. How to reach it? With her hands in front of her she might have been able to, but like this...?

He was much too careful not to give her any opportunities. He was not taking risks. And her comfort obviously was not something he took into consideration.

Well, there’s a surprise.

She watched him, lying on the other side of the small fire he had started, seemingly deeply asleep.

Don’t count on it.

Even while asleep, she knew him to stay alert on some level. If she moved too much, he would wake. He never let down his guard completely.

Movement caught her eye. It was Karnwyr, circling their camp, watching over them.

Karnwyr!

Maybe that was the solution. She called out to him, her voice not even a whisper, but she knew his keen senses would pick it up. And certainly, his ears pricked and he turned his face to her.

“Come here, furface”, she breathed, still keeping her voice so low even she could barely hear.

The wolf came over, stopping in front of her, his head tilted slightly as if asking a question.

“Help me”, she said, softly. “Chew the bonds.”

He just stood, staring at her, so still not even a hair of his fur moved.

“You’re not betraying him”, she whispered. “You know he does not want to go. You know he hates that woman. You know he is afraid. If I escape, I will try to find a way to help him. But like this, I can’t do anything for him.”

His head tilted to the other side.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the ropes with me. He won’t know how I got free, he won’t see you chewed them. Help your master, Karnwyr. Let me help him.”

His strangely intelligent eyes showed indecision, and he whined softly.

“The spell forces him to come to her, but to bring me as well. If I escape, he will have to look for me. It will keep him from having to return to her. You’re not only helping me, furface. You’re helping him in the first place.”

She was not sure that was true, but it might be. And she just had to get away. Did it matter if she lied to an animal for that?

The wolf turned and vanished from her field of view. Moments later she felt his muzzle at her back, felt his teeth tugging at the ropes. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax as she remembered the huge teeth and what they did, tearing into flesh. Karnwyr would not hurt her intentionally, but the bonds were tight... what if he slipped? What if he accidentally ripped her wrist open...?

She kept as still as possible, hardly daring to breathe, to make sure no twitching of her hands caused that slip of teeth. After seemingly an eternity, she felt the bonds loosen a bit, and Karnwyr redoubled his efforts, now that he had some slack. Soon, the ropes fell away.

She sat up, repressing a pained moan as the circulation returned fully to her hands, and moved them carefully. When the tingling stopped, she stroked the ears of the wolf who regarded her expectantly, and pressed a small kiss on his furry forehead.

“Thanks”, she whispered.

Then she quickly, but carefully pulled out the leather bag and got out the scroll, cursing the rustling of the parchment. She threw a quick glance at Bishop and saw that he had moved his head, but his eyes were still closed.

Hurry!

She turned the scroll so she could read the symbols inscribed on it in the flickering light of the fire, mumbling the words under her breath, as quietly as possible, the remnants of the rope gripped in her other hand. She would not leave them behind. She had promised Karnwyr. The rest of her equipment was lost, but that was a small price to pay.

Karnwyr padded away from her while she continued to intone the incantation. Suddenly, she heard a sharp cry and the sound of someone jumping to his feet. She fought to keep her concentration, to tone out the noises of someone rushing up to her.

Frantically, her voice rising, she spoke the last words of the spell and looked up to see Bishop had nearly reached her, his face a mask of fury, surprise and fear. His hands reached out to grab her, he was nearly there, one second more and he would have reached her...

...when she felt a tingling in her body, and the image faded in front of her eyes, to be replaced by the familiar picture of the library of Crossroad Keep.

Description
The Short Way Home

How to get to the Teleport scroll to use it?

That stayed the price question, the whole miserable day Bishop dragged her through the woods. Lana simply could not think of anything. This time, he kept her going ahead of him, watching her diligently. He had released her feet, and standing up, she might have been able to fumble the bag out of her breeches, get the scroll out with her bound hands... but he did not leave her a chance. Did not leave her out of his sight for a second.

Damn him!

Oh, after another hot and sweaty day traipsing through that blasted wilderness, she was angry at him. She would have loved to beat some sense into his thick skull with an oak cudgel. Damn his lone wolf act!

Together, they might have found a way, might have come up with a plan to get out of this scrape. But he had made it more than clear that there would be no “together” anymore. That there was just him and her and of the two of them, he liked himself better.

It made her want to kick his ass from here to doomsday.

But she also was sad, no denying that. Even the anger could not drown out the sadness. Why did it have to be like this, when she knew it could have been so very different? Had been so very different?

She missed the companionship of the days past. Missed the laughter, the banter, the closeness. Missed the warmth and the tenderness. Missed his touch, the comfort.

Damn, damn, damn!

And even though she knew he was sacrificing her to save his own hide, she could not help but feel pity. The image of his mangled skin, of the horrors Jaluth had inflicted on him, was still fresh in her mind. Maybe his old self was better equipped to deal with the hussy than the kinder, softer version she had come to like, but he still would suffer incredibly.

He might not break under the darkness Jaluth would make him go through, because he carried enough darkness in himself not to be horrified at certain things. Not to despair under the realisation of what he was capable of doing. Because he just plain did not give a damn.

But he still felt pain, and he still would suffer under the indignities, the humiliation, the torture, and the loss of his freedom. The freedom he valued so much.

No one deserved to be treated like that. Not even him.

On the other hand, even with the sadness and the pity, there was no way in hell she would let him drag her back into that cage, into the clutches of the loony queen. Not if she could help it. Not if the companion of the last days was irrevocably lost to her.

So she trudged through the woods, her head down, thinking as hard as she could. Bishop was at her heels, sometimes directing her with curt, clipped words, making her wonder how he knew where to go if he had lost the memory of their flight from Jaluth’s mansion. But she would bite off her own tongue before she asked.

Karnwyr trotted at Bishop’s side, and when they paused, she could sometimes see the wolf throw his master questioning glances. Often, the animal would look at her as if she would be able to provide an answer.

Which, unfortunately, she could not. Even if she had been sure what the question was.

Come evening, she was so tired it bordered on exhaustion. She had not had any sleep last night, not counting the unconsciousness; she had been hit hard and her face still ached, and she had had another day of crawling through bushes. She felt like she was ready to drop. Still, she would be damned if she let him see any of this. Clenching her teeth, she continued walking, even if every step seemed to send a painful jolt up her aching legs and into her mangled jaw.

Finally, he called out to her to stop walking. Lana turned to face him, her chin up, defiance in her eyes.

“We’ll stay here for the night”, he said, setting down his pack. She waited, standing, not saying a word, for him to untie her hands so she could set down her pack, too. Maybe, if she was quick, she could...

He came over to her, stepping behind her, starting to work on the rope that bound her wrists.

“Keep still, or I’ll make you regret it”, he said.

As soon as she felt her hands come free, she whirled around, stepping back, and reached out to her powers.

Quick as lightning he followed her, grabbing her wrists just as she started to weave the eldritch strands into the pattern that would allow her to move so much faster, holding her hands in an iron grip above her head, pinning her to the tree behind her with his body to keep her from moving.

“Now, Captain”, he said, his brows drawn up. “I said I was going to make you regret if you tried anything like that.”

The low purr in his voice sent a shiver down her back. He was close, so close... she could feel him pressing against her, and she could smell his earthy scent, musky, spicy...

Again, images of his naked body next to hers came to her mind, memories of the sleekness of his skin, his hot breath in her ear.

She swallowed, closing her eyes to get a grip on her reactions.

He leaned forward, making her feel the warmth radiating from his body even more. “What”, he whispered into her ear, and she could have sworn there was laughter in his voice. “Am I affecting you, Captain?”

She swallowed again, repressing another shiver. “Yes”, she answered, forcing her voice to sound calm, even managing to give it a biting note. “You’re making me feel nauseous.”

Now he really laughed. She could hear the low chuckle next to her ear, feel the slight shaking of his body.

“I remember why I offered to run away into the woods with you”, he said, sounding genuinely amused. “You’re never boring, I’ll give you that. Now, be a good girl, take off that pack and let me bind your hands without forcing me to hurt you again. You know I will do it if I have to, but I would prefer to get some rest.”

She opened her eyes again, now that she trusted he would not see anything she would not like him to see in them, and found him looking down at her with a glittering smile on his face.

She gnashed her teeth. Bastard! How dare he laugh at her?

He chuckled again at the sparks shooting at him out of her green eyes. “Hells, such a temper. You really were wasted on the tin can. Should have taken me up on my offer. I would have known what to do with so much fire.”

She gasped in fury, wanting to slap that slimy grin from his face so much she jerked against his grip, but in vain. “Don’t speak of him!” she hissed. “You’re not worth the muck under his boots!”

His face got thoughtful, and his gaze travelled over her face, lazily. “Such a temper”, he repeated, as if talking to himself. “ His eyes ended up on her mouth and lingered there. “But I think I would have been able to handle that.”

Why, that presumptuous, arrogant, snot-nosed...

She got very still under the pressure of his body, and slowly, a cruel smile tugged at her lips. “Well”, she said sweetly, “I think you’ve got a very temperamental woman waiting for you, wistfully. Let’s see how you handle her.”

His eyes snapped back to hers and she felt satisfaction to see that all traces of arrogance and self-assuredness were gone, leaving only naked fear behind. Then the nondescript expression was back, and he drew away a bit, turning her in one swift motion, wrenching her hands to her back painfully in the process.

She could not stop a pained noise from escaping her while she found her face pressed into the rough bark of the tree.

“Enough of this”, she heard his voice, cold now. “Move, and you’ll regret it. You’d do good to believe me this time.”

And somehow, she did. So she kept still while he took off the pack she still carried and bound her hands behind her back, telling herself that patience was the better part of virtue. She would bide her time and wait for her moment to come. No sense in provoking him even more. She would wait and when the time came, she would be the last one laughing.

The angry knot in her stomach did not want to believe her, but she got the better of it. For now.

So she remained outwardly calm while he bound her again. She even managed to keep quiet while he hand-fed her later, refusing to release her hands so she could eat. He fed her morsels of bread and held the water skin to her mouth so she could drink.

She really felt like biting his fingers but managed to repress the childish impulse.

It helped that he was cold and matter-of-factly about the whole process, not talking, not looking at her more than necessary, no innuendo. Her comment about Jaluth really had put a damper on his spirits, it seemed. She still felt a grim satisfaction about that. It might have been a petty comment, might have been deliberately cruel, but he had it coming.

A bit of his own medicine was exactly what he needed, and she was happy to serve.

Later, she lay on her side, her hands still behind her back in a more than uncomfortable position, longingly thinking about the scroll she carried. How to reach it? With her hands in front of her she might have been able to, but like this...?

He was much too careful not to give her any opportunities. He was not taking risks. And her comfort obviously was not something he took into consideration.

Well, there’s a surprise.

She watched him, lying on the other side of the small fire he had started, seemingly deeply asleep.

Don’t count on it.

Even while asleep, she knew him to stay alert on some level. If she moved too much, he would wake. He never let down his guard completely.

Movement caught her eye. It was Karnwyr, circling their camp, watching over them.

Karnwyr!

Maybe that was the solution. She called out to him, her voice not even a whisper, but she knew his keen senses would pick it up. And certainly, his ears pricked and he turned his face to her.

“Come here, furface”, she breathed, still keeping her voice so low even she could barely hear.

The wolf came over, stopping in front of her, his head tilted slightly as if asking a question.

“Help me”, she said, softly. “Chew the bonds.”

He just stood, staring at her, so still not even a hair of his fur moved.

“You’re not betraying him”, she whispered. “You know he does not want to go. You know he hates that woman. You know he is afraid. If I escape, I will try to find a way to help him. But like this, I can’t do anything for him.”

His head tilted to the other side.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the ropes with me. He won’t know how I got free, he won’t see you chewed them. Help your master, Karnwyr. Let me help him.”

His strangely intelligent eyes showed indecision, and he whined softly.

“The spell forces him to come to her, but to bring me as well. If I escape, he will have to look for me. It will keep him from having to return to her. You’re not only helping me, furface. You’re helping him in the first place.”

She was not sure that was true, but it might be. And she just had to get away. Did it matter if she lied to an animal for that?

The wolf turned and vanished from her field of view. Moments later she felt his muzzle at her back, felt his teeth tugging at the ropes. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax as she remembered the huge teeth and what they did, tearing into flesh. Karnwyr would not hurt her intentionally, but the bonds were tight... what if he slipped? What if he accidentally ripped her wrist open...?

She kept as still as possible, hardly daring to breathe, to make sure no twitching of her hands caused that slip of teeth. After seemingly an eternity, she felt the bonds loosen a bit, and Karnwyr redoubled his efforts, now that he had some slack. Soon, the ropes fell away.

She sat up, repressing a pained moan as the circulation returned fully to her hands, and moved them carefully. When the tingling stopped, she stroked the ears of the wolf who regarded her expectantly, and pressed a small kiss on his furry forehead.

“Thanks”, she whispered.

Then she quickly, but carefully pulled out the leather bag and got out the scroll, cursing the rustling of the parchment. She threw a quick glance at Bishop and saw that he had moved his head, but his eyes were still closed.

Hurry!

She turned the scroll so she could read the symbols inscribed on it in the flickering light of the fire, mumbling the words under her breath, as quietly as possible, the remnants of the rope gripped in her other hand. She would not leave them behind. She had promised Karnwyr. The rest of her equipment was lost, but that was a small price to pay.

Karnwyr padded away from her while she continued to intone the incantation. Suddenly, she heard a sharp cry and the sound of someone jumping to his feet. She fought to keep her concentration, to tone out the noises of someone rushing up to her.

Frantically, her voice rising, she spoke the last words of the spell and looked up to see Bishop had nearly reached her, his face a mask of fury, surprise and fear. His hands reached out to grab her, he was nearly there, one second more and he would have reached her...

...when she felt a tingling in her body, and the image faded in front of her eyes, to be replaced by the familiar picture of the library of Crossroad Keep.