Rich Wulf - Flight of the Dying Sun

“You haven’t changed, d’Cannith.”

“Oh, but I have,” Dalan said. “You may see me as manipulative and arrogant, but these qualities have served me well. Thus I see no reason to discard them. You may not like me, Arthen, but we are allies-and I do sincerely wish to atone for my mistakes.”

“Then stop making them,” Zed said. He stooped to scratch the dog behind the ears, then left the cabin. Arthen closed the hatch quietly, leaving the guild master to his solitude.

The sun shone brilliant gold over the plains, as if proud that it had finally melted last night’s clouds away. The new light was greeted by the jubilant songs of wild birds and the bass cry of a grazing threehorn herd. It was a beautiful sight, or would have been, if Seren hadn’t had such a terrible headache. She squinted, not wanting to wake up, huddling tightly into her blankets and hugging her pillow against her chest. It was only after a moment’s consideration that she realized she had not been carrying any blankets or pillows.

Her eyes opened instantly. She released Tristam and rolled away across the grass, blushing furiously. The artificer sat up and straightened his baggy coat with a lopsided grin, his dark brown eyes meeting hers, then quickly darting away.

“Guess it was cold last night,” he said. “People in their sleep will naturally move toward one another for warmth.”

“Is that what you call that?” she asked with a small smile.

Tristam blushed and shrugged uncomfortably. “It won’t happen again,” he said.

“Too bad,” she answered, rising and stretching with languid care as she studied the surrounding plains. “So we’re headed to Karrnath?”

“What?” Tristam blinked, realizing he’d been staring at her. “Oh. Karrnath.” He coughed and stood, stumbling as he patted the dust from his coat. “Yeah, we need to head north and a little west. Fort Bones or Vulyar are probably our best bets. If we’re lucky we’ll meet a halfling caravan along the way and trade for some ponies or something. I don’t have a lot of money, but I could probably trade a few potions to pay them.”

“Xain, you’re an idiot. Do you need her to make it any more obvious?” whispered a mocking voice from the high grass.

Tristam whirled about, wand and sword appearing in either hand. He lowered the weapons almost instantly and laughed.

“Did someone say something?” Seren asked.

“Only an annoying halfling,” Tristam said, laughing.

Gerith Snowshale stepped out of the grass and offered them an elegant bow.

“Gerith!” Seren cried happily. She ran over to the little scout, dropping to her knees and grabbing him in a hug. “Are you all right? Is everyone else all right?”

“They’re all fine,” Gerith said. “I’m doing great.” The halfling winked at Tristam over her shoulder. Tristam sighed.

“Where is the Karia Naille ?” Seren asked.

“En route to Karrnath,” Gerith said. “Dalan sent me to find you two.”

“Dalan’s alive?” Tristam said. His voice was neutral.

“Aye,” Gerith said, “and as bossy as ever. Tristam, you need to get back to the ship so he has someone else to yell at besides me.”

“I have a lot to talk to him about,” Tristam said.

“Then it’s settled,” Gerith said happily. “I’ll fly Blizzard back and let them know I found you. We should be back soon!”

“Be safe, Gerith,” Seren said.

“You too, Seren,” Gerith said. “Take care of my winsome damsel, Tristam. My story will be terrible without its heroine. I’ll just let you two get back to what you were doing.”

Tristam made an irritated shooing motion with his sword. Gerith snickered and disappeared into grass again. Blizzard exploded from the plain seconds later, carrying his master aloft with a proud cry.

“You know I was thinking,” Seren said. “That ring you used to save us-didn’t you tell me that Orren Thardis made it for you?”

Tristam looked at the golden ring on his finger. “Yeah,” he said, frowning. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

“Is it possible that Marth could be using that ring to track us?” she asked. “The way you used your enchantments to track me?”

“It’s possible,” Tristam said. “Just unlikely. He made the ring years ago, when we were still friends and he had no reason to spy on me.”

“You didn’t want to spy on me,” Seren said. “You wanted to keep me safe. Would Marth have done the same thing?”

Tristam frowned. “He would,” he said. “But those sorts of enchantments only work over short range. Marth wouldn’t be able to use it to follow us from Black Pit to Talenta.”

“But he would know if you were nearby,” she said. “Like he did last night, when you were on his ship.”

Tristam nodded gravely. “I should probably get rid of it,” he said, clenching his fist around the ring. He looked up at Seren, noticing she was staring at him with faint amusement. “What are you looking at?” he asked.

She nodded at his sword. “You know if you actually knew how to use that thing you might have done a little better against Marth,” she said. “He was prepared for your magic, but wasn’t ready for steel.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, hurt. He stuffed the ring in his coat pocket. “I’m a good swordsman. I once ranked among the most skilled duelists in the Lhazaar Principalities.”

Seren gave him a bored look.

He sheathed the sword sheepishly. “Very well, that’s a lie,” he said. “I’ve never had any training. Is it that obvious?”

She grinned and kept walking. “Only when you start fighting,” she said. “You have the opening stances down pretty well, but once a fight starts you just flail around or fall back on using your wand.”

Tristam flipped the ivory wand in his hand and nodded. “I never really had time to learn to fight,” he said. “I never thought it was necessary. I’d rather just intimidate the other guy into backing down, or throw out a handful of sleeping powder or a lightning bolt to get it over with.” He tucked the wand back into his belt and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I guess I’m just not much of a warrior.”

“Not wanting to fight isn’t a weakness, Tristam,” Seren said, stepping closer to him, “but you may want to learn.”

“I don’t think I could ask Zed or Eraina,” he said, “and Omax doesn’t really use weapons.”

“Then ask me,” she said.

“You know how to use a sword?” he asked, looking at her with surprise.

Seren nodded and grinned. “My dad was a soldier,” she said. “He showed me a few things in case I ever needed to protect myself. It wasn’t anything much, just enough to get by. I practiced on my own, sparring with the local boys. I think I was hoping to impress Dad when he came back home.” She trailed off, biting her lip as she stared into the distance again.

Tristam watched her quietly for a long time. She turned away, wiping something from her cheek.

“My parents served on a merchant vessel,” Tristam said, standing next to her and staring in the distance at whatever she was pretending to look at. “Of course, for a Lhazaarite, the term ‘merchant vessel’ is used pretty loosely. That applies especially if you’re on board the ship we’ve been hired to make an unscheduled trade with.”

“Your parents were pirates?” she asked, looking at him with an interested grin.

“Pirate is such an ugly word,” Tristam said, though he beamed to see her smile. “Ten years ago, my father’s ship was hired to do some scouting for the Aundairian Royal Navy. She sank in a coastal skirmish with the Valenar, in a battle so minor nobody even cared enough to name it. I left home as soon as I was old enough, hoping I might find that mom and dad had survived and were out there waiting for me.” He shrugged into his coat.