Be warned, dear reader, there be spoilers ahead

"Bow?!  Surely you cannot mean that I, an Arch Magess, should stoop to using a bow?  Never!!" exclaimed Lhalprile as she stalked angrily to the edge of flickering light surrounding the briskly crackling campfire, her cape, enlivened by the streaming energy of her displeasure, swirling restlessly about her petite form.

Hawken moved warily to her side and stood quietly waiting for her composure to return, knowing it would be unwise to risk her explosive temper at close range.

"At any range," he amended silently to himself.  Lhalprile's spell powers had grown exponentially in the past few months as had all the skills of the little band.  Unfortunately, her youthful exuberance had yet to be controlled as completely as her sorcery, and from moment to moment one never knew what mood would next emerge from her mutable being.  He glanced back toward the campfire where Shendarth and Crysanthia were head to head sharing their druidic secrets as usual and he steeled his mind against the familiar wave of isolation that threatened to wash through him.

He had trained as an Archer and recently had been promoted to Battle Mage.  Although he had learned all of the same elemental spells as Lhalprile and the two druids, he was still so limited in mana that he could not cast the greater spells more than once or twice during the course of a battle.  And frustratingly, because circumstance had prevented them from returning to Castle Stromgard after restoring the Dragon Towers, he had yet to convince each of his companions how important it was to return now to Beserker's Fury in Silver Cove to get their bow skill, train up to expert, and hasten to the Frozen Highlands to report his Lordship that the Dragon Towers had been reset.  Then at last he could receive his promotion to Warrior Mage.

Thanking Heaven's Will that his three companions had been hoarding some of their skill allotment gains from their earlier training, his hope was that each would still have enough left to become masters of the bow as well.  He was sure that the only way they could survive in Castle Alamos would be if, as one, they used their bows for first strikes, holding their mana in reserve for battle in the larger caverns that they had glimpsed in their desperate retreat earlier, and for healing, or, for beaconing out when mana got too low.  They had nearly bought the farm in that hell-hole when they attempted their initial incursion into its depths.

"Ye gads, those Madgar!" he thought sourly, "Where are they all coming from?  Coupled with the devastating electrical attacks of those Whirling Winds and aided by the sorcery power of those fiendish Wizards and their lessor cohorts?  Our combined mana isn't near enough to even the odds at this point."

In secret he had been practicing his spellcasting, the blackened blasted crags thrusting through the refrozen ice slicks in the mountains north of the volcano in Kriegspire bore smoldering testimony to the exhausting efforts he had made during the long winter nights while the others had celebrated and rested in town after that bludgeoning minotaur nightmare in the Castle.  So he had strong hopes that his sorcerous ability would gain him more respect in the group once he gained his full power.

They had been happy enough to look to him in the beginning of their campaigns when his keen eye and swift arrow, flying true to its mark, had made all the difference between success and death for themselves in the many overland melees and early dungeon battles.  Though apparently they had not been enough impressed to learn bow skill early on in the campaign as he had advised.  Of late he had felt the weight of oblique considering stares as he went about his camp duties and he wondered what that was all about.

Glancing again at the young magess, he saw her shoulders slump wearily and then straighten once more, her cape draping quietly now over her leathers.

"Ah, Lhalprile, no one doubts your prowess," he spoke softly, "least of all me.  None of us would be alive now without your strength in flying power, crossing this eel infested sea.  But our mana is finite, even yours, and resting may not be an option once we are deep in the bowels of Castle Alamos.  Each having mastery of the bow could save our skins in the long run.  We wouldn't be doing Enroth any favor by dying, I'm afraid.  Once we are in Kreigspire you'd be able to restore the beacon at the well near the The Broken Promise too.  Then we could portal to New Sorpigal and refresh the beacon in front of the Temple.  Truly, Lhalprile, we won't be losing much time and there would be far less chance of failure."

Hawken gently placed his hand on her slim shoulder in concern.

"It's not an easy thing I ask of you, Lady Mage, but," he suddenly was surprised to hear himself saying, "it would ease my heart.  I find I don't want to lose you."

Lhalprile quirked a dainty eyebrow up at him and said, "Really Hawken, you surprise me.  It was my impression that you found me to be quite insufferable!"

She gave a short laugh. "Well, I don't like to admit it but what you say does make sense.  Still, I'm not entirely sure I want to develop the brawny shoulders of a bowman.  Or the calluses!"

Looking him full in the face, noting not for the first time the deep clear quiet eyes, the pensive brow, the fine aquiline nose, and becoming serious, Lhalprile said in a lowered voice, "To be sure, Hawken, I find it would cause me grief to lose you too.  Come, we must convince the others, time is growing short."

Returning to the warmth of the fire they stood for a moment in silence when, upon their arrival, Chrysanthia nodded, her glowing golden amulet which was crafted in the likeness of sinuous twining vines held aloft to the starry sky.  A soft low chanting filled the air as the Arch Druidess communed with Heaven's Will for their succor and safety, herself a small vibrant channel and the amulet the pulsing focus for the ambient power of Truth.  With a soothing bass undertone Shendarth accompanied her chanting, the combined sound clearing their hearts and minds for the tasks before them.  Chrysanthia lowered her arms, replaced the amulet under her cloak and smiled across at her companions, then nodded to Shendarth.

"We agree with you, Hawken, and we have readied our gear for portaling to Silver Cove in the morning," the Arch Druid rumbled.

"By the Will of Heaven, how did you?  Oh, never mind, Shendarth," Hawken smiled and shrugged.  Who knew what unseen forces a Druid accessed?  Probably best not to question, especially concerning an area of power so closely and fiercely guarded. "I thank you both for your acceptance.  The inn in Silver Cove is no doubt as closed at this hour as in town yonder east, and camping here near shore is probably safe enough now."

He turned to Lhalprile and she said, "Yes, if we rise early, we can portal out near first light, sell what we can do without and by nine meet at Beserker's Fury.  I believe we can train for expert bow at Jed Morrison's in Castle Stromgard, so we could go there next.  And while there, we should return to Lord Stromgard where Hawken can receive his Warrior Mage promotion.  Then, off to Kreigspire to the Bow Master?  I'm afraid my beacon has lapsed there, so that journey will have to be by coach from Free Haven."  Lhalprile ducked her head, embarrassed, saying, "I won't let that one expire again, you can be sure.  At least traveling overland should give us a chance to practice our archery skills at the rest stops."

"Lhalprile? Speaking of beacons, Shendarth and I should refresh the ones set south of here at the elemental and magic resistance wells before we set off.  And we've made several new batches of Super Energy and Super Resistance for everyone also," Chrysanthia said.  "So, goodnight all.  It's the hay for me!  Oh, who keeps first watch?"

Shendarth raised his eyes from the fire to hers saying, "I do. It's less than three hours 'til dawn.  Hawken, in about an hour or so, you?"

Hawken nodded yes, and returned the small warm smile cast upon him by Lhalprile, and the three set for sleep, wrapping themselves in their cloaks and angling about for a comfortable spot on the mild slant of the hill.  Soon, with the long breathing of deep sleep filling the air, Shendarth brooded into the fire, his ears tuned to the night and his eyes to the shifting of the driftwood as the coals underneath gave way to the weight above.

"It had been touch and go early on," Shendarth thought, "but Hawken has turned out very well. Would have made a fine druid if he'd been so inclined.  The boy still lacks confidence to some degree, but his Warrior Mage promotion will give him the spell power he needs and bolster his self-esteem too.  Yet even so, he's been holding his own.  Almost didn't expect that he would.  At first he had seemed so lightweight, always fiddling with the feathers on his arrows and twanging his bowstring like it was some kind of harp, after we made camp.  Made our so-serious Lhalprile actually laugh out loud though it nearly drove Chrysanthia and me crazy with the distraction.  Still, Hawken is good at finding things, almost as practiced as Chrysanthia is in discovering the little hidden treasures, powerful amulets and rings."  It all truly amazed him.

"Hmmph, we're lucky though to still have all our parts! He about blew everything he touched sky high when he first joined up with us.  Even as late as that time in the Mire, could have lost my right eye with that chest near blowing the skin off me by Longfang Witherhide's cave.  Barely could see for weeks with my cheek all swelled up like it was where that brass corner-gusset had clipped me as it went winging past!"  Gingerly he massaged his right cheek that still ached when he got tired, which was most of the time.

"Course I didn't mind Chrysanthia's solicitous ministrations too much, come to think of it.  A right pretty wench she is, gentle, quick, astute, understanding.  Heh, knows her own mind too well, mayhap.  Still, in another place and time.."

Sternly he roused himself from that trail of thought and looked around him, tuning his ears to the sound of the waves lapping on the beach just down the hill to the west and then to the far off sporadic clangs of the shipping lane buoys bobbing in the swells of the sea to the south.  And to the east, he felt the uneasy sullen darkness laying heavily over the little town, a darkness that gathered on itself, coiling down from brooding facade of Castle Alamos, high on the hill.

They had quickly walked through the small hamlet at the base of Castle Alamos after clearing the island of more of those horrors-on-wings they had first come upon in Agar's Laboratory, looking for aid.  But the temple, shop and inn had been closed up tight against the night.  Few people, still with lights burning and any sense, would have appreciated a visit from their group of armed strangers at that late hour.  And again, when they emerged barely whole from the Castle itself the next early morning after their aborted foray into its depths, they were still without recourse to any assistance the temple might have had to offer.

Grueling and exhausting had been the hazardous flight up from the southern isle where Lhalpril had received her Mastery in Light Magic.  If he never saw another flying clawed squawker or another vicious excuse for a sea serpent, it would be too soon.  Those unnatural creatures couldn't possibly have been born of Heaven's Will and were obviously guarding against access to Castle Alamos.  There was no doubt in his mind they had been spawned by evil machinations.  The pieces were slowly coming together in his mind, forming a terrible picture of domination, destruction and death, a picture which had enlarged alarmingly in the few short years since they first fled from the alien invasion force up in in their homeland of Sweetwater.  It was a picture of an evil power coalescing even more rapidly then he had seen possible in his early vision quests.  He wearily shook his head.

After administering repeated Power Cures on all of them when they finally had cleared the seas of the eels and returned to earth near Castle Alamos, both he and Chrysanthia had been nearly drained of mana. Total folly it surely had been then to enter Castle Alamos without proper rest, drunk with victory after their battles on the seas.

"Earned that lesson rightly enough, and mighty lucky to be still alive to benefit from it," he thought with chagrin.  "A bit of sleep and a long draught at the well in Silver Cove center should soon put us to rights.  Hawken was certainly accurate in his call for more bow power.  We get too prideful and vain with all this mystical energy coursing through us and heed not the practical, calling it mundane and so beneath notice.  'Twould be better not to press our luck again. Hmmm, daily exercise with the bow would help strengthen us too.  Always did admire the look of a well-sinewed arm and wouldn't hurt to have stronger arms on myself.  I might like that."  Musing, he smiled wryly.  "It doesn't have to be all mind-over-matter for a druid, now does it?

He laughed to himself as he answered his question, "No, it doesn't."

With that thought, he glanced above for the position of the Calmadna constellation now beginning to fade in the predawn sky.  Shendarth rose stiffly, stretching out the kinks, high-stepping in place for a few minutes to restore circulation.  Then gently he nudged Hawkin's shoulder to wake him.

Immediately alert, Hawken arose, lifting his brows for the all-clear.  When Shendarth nodded assent as he lay down for his rest, Hawken stretched and then strode just outside the perimeter of fireglow to feel the last of the night.  Expanding his senses and convinced all was calm, he sat facing east against the base of a young tree for support, and waited for dawn, enjoying the quiet, his heart full, his mind still.