R. Salvatore - The Highwayman

Calls for them to "stand and be counted!" assailed the couple almost immediately, and soldiers drew out their short swords.

Dynard couldn't help but grin as he noted those weapons, of bronze and iron, and compared them to the sword that SenWi had strapped across her back.

The soldiers approached cautiously, fanning out to flank the couple.

"Be at ease, soldiers of Laird Pryd, for I am of your town, returned now to my chapel," Dynard said to them.

"That's Bran Dynard!" one of the workers yelled out, and a host of murmurs erupted.

"Indeed," said the monk. "The time of my mission is ended, and so I return to Pryd."

"I do not know you," said the nearest soldier, a large man with knotted muscles and a broad and strong chest. Although hardened like a seasoned veteran, he was less than twenty years of age, by Dynard's estimation, perhaps no more than sixteen.

"I am of Chapel Pryd," he explained. "You would have been no more than a boy when I departed."

"It is that monk," said another of the soldiers, and he slid away his sword and moved closer. Nods of agreement came from all around and the warriors relaxed.

Dynard's relief was short-lived, though, for he noted their expressions as they scrutinized SenWi, showing a range of emotions from lewd to curious to dismissive, as one might view a goat or a cow. It was that last expression, offered by the powerful younger warrior, that most unnerved the monk, showing the warrior's complete disregard for the dark-skinned southerner.

" 'Twas powries who ran off with the girl," Dynard said, drawing them all back to him.

"What do you know of it?" asked one, apparently the leader of the group, a slender, tall warrior of about Dynard's age whom the monk thought he recognized, though he could not recall the man's name.

"Captain Deepen," the man introduced himself, and Dynard nodded his recollection.

"We came upon them last night, and did battle," the monk explained. "They were too numerous for us to retrieve the girl, but we drove them away."

"And yet you escaped?" Deepen asked, obvious doubt in his tone.

"Because of your gemstones, no doubt," another remarked.

"More the work of my wife," Dynard explained, looking to SenWi, and he didn't miss the horrified expressions all around him as he proclaimed this diminutive woman, the stranger to Honce, this "beast of Behr," as his wife. Dynard steeled himself against that response and recounted the battle in full, dramatizing SenWi's prowess and sword work, and leaving out only the not-so-small detail that he and SenWi, and not the powries, had run off with poor Callen.

"Laird Pryd will hear of this," Deepen decided and he reached out as if to take Dynard by the arm.

The monk recoiled. "I am for Chapel Pryd straightaway. Too long have I been out on the road. I will speak with Father Jerak, and will come to the summons of Laird Pryd, of course, if I am so called."

The captain eyed him suspiciously, then at SenWi as well, but he did back away a step, clearing the way to the road.

"Where'd you find that…one?" the young and powerful warrior asked Dynard, and the man strode up to study SenWi more closely.

"She is my wife, from Behr," he replied, and the man gave a burst of laughter.

"And your name is?" Dynard asked.

"Bannagran," said the warrior, and he looked at Dynard, chuckled again, then walked away.

Dynard took SenWi by the arm and led her along quickly before the soldiers could reconsider, before they perhaps grew more interested in, and concerned about, the weapon strapped across her back.

In short order, the couple were long out of sight of the workmen and the soldiers, walking quickly down the road. Dynard slowed their pace when they came to the outskirts of Pryd Town and in clear sight of Castle Pryd, considering again the expressions on the faces of those folk at the battle scene, looks from soldier and peasant alike, as they regarded his foreign wife.

How might his brothers of Abelle respond to her?

He wondered if perhaps he should have left SenWi with Garibond. "By the Ancient Ones, it is impossible!" Garibond said to Callen when he came back from his chores to find the woman sitting up in bed, the blankets wrapped about her shoulders. "The poison had you, girl."

Callen kept her head bowed, but Garibond saw her brown eyes glance up at him from behind the screen of her wheat-colored hair.

"The woman-of Behr no less!-saved your life, girl. She gave you healing." He shook his head in disbelief.

Callen rose, unsteady for a moment. "Have you clothing for me?" she asked, and the tremor in her voice reflected the ordeal she had suffered.

Garibond nodded at the foot of the bed, where a tunic and traveling cloak were set out.

"I will be gone this morn," Callen said, and she moved to the clothing and began to dress, discarding modesty in the face of necessity.

"Now, take your time," Garibond said. "Where will you go?" He started for Callen, but held back until she had slipped the tunic over her head.

"Where will you go?" he asked again when she turned back to him.

"I've family in the west," she answered. "They will see to me."

"You've friends here," Garibond replied.

Callen stared at him for a few moments, then tightened her lips and shook her head. She was afraid, he could plainly see. She knew that she was a danger to any who showed her kindness.

"You need food and rest," Garibond remarked, and he rushed across the way and pulled open a cabinet and began searching for some food he might offer. "You cannot go out there now, not so soon. They'll see you and guess the truth of it, don't you see? You should let all the whispers of Callen Duwornay die away before you venture out anywhere where you might be seen. Memories are short, don't you worry, and soon enough, strong and with all health returned, you'll find your way." He finished hopefully, and turned with a loaf of bread in one hand and a cooked chicken in the other.

But the door was open and Callen was gone.

Forward Looking With a great and steadying sigh and a glance back to SenWi, Brother Dynard pulled open the large oaken door of Chapel Pryd and walked inside. Like all of the Abelle chapels in Honce, the place was dimly lit and smoky, with few windows and many candles set about.

"May I help you, brother?" said a younger monk Dynard did not know. The man moved up to him, his posture open and inviting, for obviously he had recognized Dynard, in his brown tunic and robe, as a fellow brother of Abelle.

Before Dynard could answer, he heard his name called out from across the way, through the inner doors of the chapel and in the main area.

"Dynard!" cried Brother Bathelais. "Is it really you?" The monk came rushing out from those doors to stand right before the returned brother, and he took Dynard's hands.

"Greetings, Brother Bathelais," Dynard replied, and he was glad that Garibond had mentioned this man the night previous, for he would not have recalled the name otherwise. "Long has been my road, across ocean waters and through desert sandstorms! It is good to be home."

"Father Jerak will wish for a full recounting as soon as is possible."

"Of course."

"You are Brother Bran Dynard, who went to Behr?" the younger monk asked. "I hope to serve my own mission soon in that same land!"

"And better will you be if you are so blessed," Dynard said to him.

"You have brought back trinkets and insights, perhaps?" asked Bathelais. "And tales of conversion?"

The unintended irony of that last statement was not wasted on the transformed monk.

"I have tales more wondrous than anything I expected," Dynard answered, smiling with sincerity. How he longed to show his brethren the beauty he had seen and insights he had gained. How he hoped that his journey to Behr, and more particularly to the Walk of Clouds, would help transform the Church of Abelle into something more wonderful and insightful.