Douglas Niles - Fistanadantilus Reborn

The historian resumed his scribbling, muttering quietly to himself, as Danyal felt his eyelids growing heavy. He lay back, finding a smooth, rounded curl of root to serve as a pillow, and in moments he was asleep. His dreams were filled with images of dragons and knights, of a tall fort on a mountaintop, and dark forests that were full of dangers. For a long time, he ran, cutting between the trees, gasping for breath, but he couldn't escape.

The snapping of a twig was the sound that pulled Danyal up from the depths of his slumber — so abruptly that he wondered if he had just closed his eyes a second before. But, no, the fire had faded to a mound of coals, and Foryth, too, was asleep, leaning against the rock where he had been doing his writing.

"Wake up!" hissed Danyal, looking around worriedly. Through the memories of his sleep, he heard the echoes of the breaking stick and felt grimly certain that something — something large — was out there.

He blinked as the shadows moved, then found himself looking up into a handsome face that he vaguely recognized. Gray metal reflected the pale firelight, a crimson glow running up and down a blade of sharpened steel.

"And what prize is this?" declared the young, dapper bandit, his dark eyes flashing back and forth between Danyal and Foryth. "It seems that our poor net has caught us two birds!"

First Majetog, Reapember

374 AC

Another bandit pressed forward, and Danyal caught his breath in sudden fear. The newcomer looked every bit the villainous wretch. One eye was missing, covered by a crusty black patch. A scruffy beard, tangled with mats, coated the man's chin, and he opened his mouth to reveal numerous missing teeth. Dan recoiled from breath stinking of ale, garlic, and other, less readily identified odors.

"Let's have yer purse, laddie," growled the nearly toothless bandit, leering down at Danyal with an expression that churned the young man's stomach into a roiling mess.

"I–I don't have any money!" he stammered. He thought fleetingly of the silver belt buckle, nervously pulling down the front of his shirt to make sure the heirloom was covered.

"No money? Then I'll have to take me booty from yer blood, I will!" The leering bully pulled out a long, wickedly curved knife, the blade gleaming sharp on both sides as he extended one edge to press against Danyal's neck.

"Hold a minute, Zack," said the first bandit, the one with the handsome, beardless face of a young man. Despite his ragged garb, there was a sense of nobility, or at least an element of graciousness, in the way he stood regarding the two captives with an expression of vague distaste.

"Aw, Kelryn!" Zack complained. "We'll get naught from these blighters. Let's just stick 'em and be on our merry way."

"No," declared the leader, studying Foryth Teel's slender figure. "I'm curious. Why weren't you frightened enough to go farther away? Instead, you build a fire that we can smell for a mile down the road! And what was all that about wanting to take notes?"

"I'm merely a humble researcher, attempting to conduct studies in the field."

"Studies?" Kelryn stared curiously at Foryth Teel. "You've picked a rather strange place for your library, stranger."

"The true historian must be willing to journey to strange places."

The one called Kelryn acted as if he hadn't heard. "You had a partner?" he mused, still studying Foryth Teel. "And all the time I thought you were alone."

He turned to regard the youth. Despite the man's smooth forehead, his strong chin and mouthful of clean white teeth, Danyal recalled-and confirmed-his earlier impression: This was a very dangerous fellow indeed. His eyes were dark and hooded, utterly devoid of compassion or any other human emotion. When he smiled, the expression seemed to Danyal like the toothy grin of a hungry cat.

The youth sensed that the situation had spun far beyond his control. "I wasn't traveling with-"

"This is my squire," Foryth interjected smoothly. "As a precaution, I had directed him to camp some distance away from my own sleeping place. I find it easier to complete my studies in solitude."

"Bah!" Zack was still impatient. The frightening man with the knife felt the edge of his blade, and his one eye shone with eagerness as he regarded Danyal. "Like I says, boss, let's be done about it."

Again the leader chose to ignore his henchman's suggestion. "What is the nature of your research?" he inquired instead.

Foryth Teel seemed quite willing to explain. "I journey to find a man, once a false priest of the Seeker cults, who is rumored to dwell in these mountains, in a place called Loreloch. I wish to converse with him on a matter of mutual interest."

"I see. It may be that I can help you. What is the nature of your business with the Master of Loreloch?"

"I seek information on matters regarding the ancient wizard Fistandantilus, who has been long dead from our world," Foryth was saying. "It is said that this Seeker is quite an authority on the topic." "And you have come to sit at his feet?" "Er, in a manner of speaking, yes. I have devoted many years of study to stories of the archmage. I had hoped his knowledge might help me to fill some of the gaps in my research."

Kelryn laughed easily, and Danyal saw those hooded eyes brighten with the first light of enthusiasm, of genuine feeling, that the youth had seen there. "I believe he might be willing to meet you. If, that is, I let you live."

"What about the kid?" whined Zack, plaintively. "Can I stick him?"

Danyal edged away from the one-eyed bandit and his sharp knife, but the rock wall of the grotto brought his movement to a sharp halt.

"I should say not!" Surprisingly, it was Foryth who answered. "My work requires the presence of my squire, else there is no way that I should be able to compile my notes and maintain a precise record. I need the lad."

"It seems to me that we can make other arrangements for your assistance," Kelryn said, shaking his head dis-missively. "And truthfully, if Zack doesn't get his regular entertainment, he can become rather… disagreeable. I think I should give him the boy."

Danyal's stomach churned in fear, even as he realized that he found the bored manner of Kelryn's words even more frightening than Zack's leering cruelty.

"Tsk, tsk." Foryth shook his head, though Danyal thought the historian didn't seem terribly agitated. "Remember, there is the matter of the reward…"

"And what reward would that be?" Kelryn asked, staring intently at the priest-historian.

"Why, the ransom that my temple would be willing to pay for myself and my squire."

"What temple?" Zack spun, crouching as he faced Foryth. Danyal took advantage of the bandit's turn to draw several deep breaths, grateful for the clean night air. He watched, heart pounding, as the men continued to talk.

"Why, the Golden Palace of Gilean in Palanthas, of course. The patriarch of my order would be more than willing to ransom two of its lost sheep, should they be assured that neither of us has suffered harm in your

hands."

"He's lying!" snarled Zack, his glaring eye swiveling back and forth between the historian and the youth.

"I'm not so sure," mused Kelryn Darewind, speaking to his henchman. "In truth, it seems that the temple masters might well be inclined to protect these lives with coin of good steel."

He regarded Foryth questioningly. "For the sake of argument, what manner of reward are we discussing?"

The historian shrugged. "I cannot say with any accuracy. This is a situation unique in my experience. However, you can always send a message of inquiry. While we're waiting for the reply, perhaps I can effectuate an interview with the Master of Loreloch."