Two To One

Chapter Two: Reunion

The evening air was still in the city streets of Venna. Small noises from out of the darkness filtered past the closed doors and mingled with the summer's warmth, and even passing strangers felt welcome in the empty cobbled alleyways.

One such door made more noise than most. Almost a steady buzz of conversation escaped past the wooden portal, and overpowered it's neighbors. The Grey Chimera was a familiar gathering spot for locals and visitors alike. All who encountered it's warm atmosphere and eloquent menu found themselves returning to the well-kept space. Few patrons who arrived alone departed that way, and none who entered hungry escaped unfilled.

Jennifer stood inside the doorway and surveyed the surrounding patrons. Dozens of revelers talked and joked, ate and drank, or danced and sang. Many sat quietly in their darkened booths and cooed or purred their affection. Some silently watched their surroundings as others unknowingly displayed their values, their valuables or their valentines. All within Jenni's view were happy. Perhaps it was impossible for one not to be , she thought. Perhaps one absorbed happiness from their surroundings.

As Jennifer wandered through the tables and the mixing patrons she wondered about herself. The solitary life she had chosen five years before weighed heavy on her mind. She had turned away from the social existence she had followed in favor of a less confused and more solitary one. Now, with the return of her adventuresome spirit, she discovered the need to once again envelope herself with humanity. She knew she had to open up to the world.

She found a table near the wall, across from the door. The stage stretched away in front of her, a smooth expanse of scuffed wood reminded her of a lake with it's surface frosted and scratched by a winter wind. It was empty now, but soon someone would climb the steps on the far side, rising from the surface like some drowned sailor.

She turned to the crowded room, surveying the people like a wary captain watching a stormy ocean. The barmaid meandered through the room depositing the many pitchers and mugs on her wide tray, and making her way across the room. The girl, still far in her teens but showing remarkable grace and skill, navigated the nearest row of tables like a ship cresting a wave. As Jennifer caught her eye, she noticed the tray was filled only with empties.

"Do you have Maruvian Wine?" she smiled.

"We do," said the girl, pushing aside her golden mane to reveal a surprised expression, "but it's quite a coin. It's come a long way."

"Wonderful. Would you bring me a mug, as cold as you can get it?"

"Of course," the waitress replied amiably. "We have an apprentice sorcerer working in back. He may be able to come up with ice chips to pour it over."

"That would be heavenly! Thank you." Jennifer smiled as the girl turned and made her way back to the bar. There's a sharp one, she thought. The barkeep would do well to keep that one around. There are makings of an adventurer struggling behind those blue eyes, and that spells heartbreak for sure. Jennifer shrugged and turned away, shaking her head. Can't be everybody's conscience.

A movement caught her eye and she turned to the stage, now occupied by a slim young man with a lyre. His copper colored hair was cropped close and stood like new mown wheat stalks atop his head. The smile on his face reflected the oil-lit chandelier as he strummed the flickering strings and began to sing.

"With the rising of the water

and the setting of the sun,

the only thing that matters now

is that I'm back to one.

I went beyond the sunset

where the nightmares only tread,

becoming one with darkened roads,

remembering things you said.

We'll wake up in the morning

as the sun escapes the night.

We'll travel past the sunset

and discover love's delight.

The tide is fast approaching

and the water closes in.

I listen for your footsteps

and I wonder where you've been.

And here you are before me

like some ghost out of my past,

with nothing more to offer

than the shadows that you cast.

We'll wake up in the morning

as the sun escapes the night.

We'll travel past the sunset,

each in lonely solo flight.

Jennifer chuckled as she rubbed her eyes with one hand and pulled a few coins from her pocket with the other. Suddenly she didn't feel like drinking. That bastard, she thought. Just like old times. She tossed the coins on the table as she stood, then pulled on her cloak. The son of a sloth can just take his quest and...

"Jennifer! What fortuitous timing!" She turned as the mage clapped a hand on her shoulder and guided her back to her seat. His smile, showing even white teeth, burned into her imagination as rows of dripping incisors before she smiled at the vision and sat down.

"I'm flattered to find you so happy to see me," he said. "For a moment there I actually thought you were going to back out on me." He raised his hand and brusquely motioned to the server. The girl, who had been headed toward their table with Jennifer's wine anyway, politely smiled and curtsied as she arrived, depositing a glass before the white haired woman. Crystalline ice sparkled in the rose-colored fluid, and wisps of foggy vapor rose from the fluted container. Yes, indeed! Jennifer smiled again. One smart kitten.

"Bring me Duskberry Brandy. Make sure it's lit. I'd rather not fuss with that burdensome alcohol." He dismissed the girl with a wave. "Now, where were we? Ah yes. I see you've noticed the privileged entertainment. Does return one to the past, does it not? I've noticed that places like these seem to revolve around the entertainment. Did you know that in some eastern towns the entertainers are actually paid a handsome price for their appearance, even if they..."

Jennifer looked to the stage and sighed. One more for the history books. Not that this particular past couldn't bear repeating. She hoped they would get it right this time around.

A flicker of motion caught her eye and she turned to get a better look. A tall man with blond hair waded through the tables, smiling and greeting the surrounding patrons now and then. His thick arms and wide shoulders complimented his height, and the loose white shirt worn with the leather pantaloons gave him the appearance of a pirate of the high seas. The image was completed by the heavy long sword hanging from his belt.

Jennifer quickly turned to the mage, who still sat across the table expounding on local politics. She looked at him carefully, wondering what the man could possibly be thinking about as he spoke about nothing. As she looked at him he turned his head and met her gaze. There she found her answer. The glinting intelligence that she normally found there had been joined by a glint of humor.

Jennifer felt the blood rising in her face and she looked away, to be met only by the smiling face of the swashbuckler as he stepped up to the table.

"Lady Jennifer!" he said. "The years have made you more beautiful than ever before." The man extended his hand as his booming voice rose above the surrounding buzz of conversation. "How have you been, my lovely friend?"

"Uh...fine." Jennifer let the man kiss her hand then dropped it to her lap as her face grew hotter still. "It's good to see you well, Mark. What brings you here? Is it chance that brings us together?" She stole a glance at the sorcerer.

"Chance? Hardly!" he chuckled. "Unless the good wizard here has progressed far beyond the potential of mortal powers. No, I'm here for the proposal, same as you." He draped himself over a chair and turned to the silent mage. "Now that I'm here we can get started. Where is this teacher of yours?"

"First of all," said Gammon, "he is not my teacher. He's my superior in the Red Order. Second, he will arrive at his leisure, not ours. When the time has come we will know." He turned to the stage where the singer had finished his performance and was stepping down from the stage. "Meanwhile there is another member to welcome back to our fold."

"You can't be serious!" Mark exploded. "The man has always been little more than a child. How can we rely on him when he can hardly rely on himself?"

Jennifer lowered her eyes. She had suspected as much when the bard had taken the stage, but now the truth of the situation came to full light.

Gammon turned to Mark with an expressionless face. "He is much more than he appears."

"And you think we could trust him?" Mark said.

"We have been friends a great many years, Mark." Gammon's level stare reminded Jennifer of her earlier vision of dripping fangs, but it appeared to calm the big swordsman. "I am asking you to trust me."

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the subject of discussion. He approached the table slowly, looking over the faces of the occupants with a wary look on his face. In one hand he had the lyre he had been strumming and in the other he held a large mug of ale. When he had arrived at the table he raised the mug to his lips and downed half the contents. When he had finished he spoke.

"What a haphazard collection of fools are we." His expression of congeniality never wavered, as he turned to Gammon. "The mysterious Gammon, purloiner of secrets lost and arcane, once again becomes orchestrator of the Falchion Five, now but four." He turned to Mark. "The mighty Mark Goldwynn, Cavalier extraordinaire, remains agitator and arbitrator of all things martial." The slender musician paused as he turned to Jennifer, and she thought she saw a haze of emotion or alcohol flash in his eyes.

"The lovely Jennifer Swift, devoted conscience to the world, once a friend to lost souls, now a soul lost among friends." He gazed into her eyes for a moment, then passed his stare across the party. "And finally the witty Ciranon Sarth." He nodded his head in greeting. "This rogue of bards, and student of words is still a scoundrel." At this he raised his mug in a salute to the table of adventurers.

"A toast!" he shouted, and all at the table heard the slur in his voice. "To the Falchion Four! May we ALL return to these wonderful chambers when our journey is done...this time." At this he drained his mug.

The silence stretched across the table, each member of the party lost in their respective thoughts. Jennifer looked across the table at Ciranon who sat staring into the empty mug before him. What is it that Gammon finds exceptional in this fool? She wondered what had moved the man from the happy and carefree person she had known to the haunted shell before her.

Jennifer was interrupted from her thoughts by Gammon, who abruptly stood and walked away from the table. As she watched the man disappear into the crowd she heard Mark speaking.

"As usual, you play the clown to the hilt, regardless of the hone of your blade." Mark sneered at the smaller man, a haughty expression on his face. "A pity you lack intelligence to go with that wit."

"Aren't you the model of perfection?" Ciranon nearly scorched the fighter with his glare. "The only intelligence you were born with was used up the day you learned how to swing a sword!"

"You little weasel!" Mark jumped to his feet, drawing his sword in the same motion. Jennifer leaped up to intervene but as she did she heard Ciranon mumble a pair of hard to follow words and saw a flicker of light forming in his upraised hand. As she stepped between the two, unsure that even that would stop the impending fray, Gammon's voice interrupted from across the table.

"Lady and Gentlemen, companions all, I would like to introduce My Lord Thanduin, Master of the Red Order. He is here to discuss commissioning our party for the recovery of the Staff of Artemis." Gammon smiled at his reunited friends. "And this harmonious band is the collection of talented individuals which have endeavored to complete our quest."

The three turned from the disagreement with a start to look at the sorcerer. The man stood before the table, an amused smile on his face. Beside him stood a man in similar robes with a look of patient humor. Although the man was older and wore slightly more gray around the temples, he seemed to be somewhat like the wizard that they had come to know. Spell and sword alike disappeared as Gammon stepped around the table.

"The tall fighter is Mark Goldwynn," said Gammon, "a cavalier of notable abilities. He is quite adept at organizing and conducting combat encounters." The stranger looked up at the blond bladesman and offered his hand.

"Greetings, Sir Goldwynn." His voice was heavy with sarcasm on the title. Mark looked him over with obvious distaste, then returned the grasp out of civil reflex. He was silent as he gazed at the newcomer and the man moved on.

"This is Ciranon Sarth," said Gammon, "capable of taking up the guise of rogue or noble at a moment's notice. He is also skilled at infiltration, entertainment, and a limited level of spell casting. His knowledge of human nature will come in as handy as his short sword if I make my guess accurately." Ciranon stood quietly surmising the stranger as Gammon spoke, then briskly turned on his heal and shouldered his way into the crowd, in the direction of the Bar. Gammon turned once again to the other. "The trouble with conscripting these artists is that they are so temperamental." The two turned to the final member of the companionship.

"This, my lord, is Jennifer Swift." The look in the newcomer's eyes set Jennifer's teeth on edge. "She is the party's historian, as well as healer, but she is quite capable of bearing arms in combat. She has saved the life of every member of the group as often as the fighter or I."

"Lord Thanduin," Jennifer said in greeting. She looked into the stranger's unfathomable brown eyes. Here is a man to be feared, she thought. Here is a man to watch like a rabid wolf. She could see the hunger on the man's face, but it wasn't the same as the hunger that she knew burned in Gammon. This man hungered not for the flesh of a young maiden, he cared not for the glittering beauty of gold or jewelry, he craved for power.

She knew all mage's felt the pull of the magic they manipulated, but she could sense somehow that this man had been swallowed whole by the beast called ambition. She dropped her eyes, hiding her hands behind her back, and hoped the man hadn't seen her thoughts.

"Shall we be seated?" Gammon looked at Jennifer and Mark and smiled. As they pulled their chairs up to the table, Gammon turned to the new arrival. "I have outlined the expedition for each of them individually, but I believe we should start from the beginning."

"Of course." Thanduin looked from one person to the next. "I can see that all of you have seen dark times before, so I will not burden you with tales of horror that could await you where you must tread. I will, however tell you about the Cult of Arc Chaos. How they came across the staff is still a mystery but what they did with it is not." He nodded to the bard who had just arrived bearing a fresh mug of ale. Ciranon took his seat in silence.

"The cult was founded by a megalomaniac known as Timothy Armous two centuries ago. Historians have written numerous tales of his ruthless climb to power, and the main theme, which all accounts agree on, is that he was a monster. In the decade during his rise he killed dozens of people, in ritualistic fashion. A large and powerful man was what he was, but also a demented one.

"If he was in disagreement with any local officials he would take them into his graces, treating them with the utmost courtesy until such a time as he was convinced that they could not be swayed or bought out of their position. When that time arrived, the functionary would disappear without a trace.

"Of course when Armous was questioned as to their whereabouts he would always claim innocence. For nearly ten years he got away with this travesty, and it is estimated that over fifty high ranking people were killed before one of the man's own people came forward with the story." Thanduin looked again from one face to another, his eyes now twin pools of churning molasses.

"It was then that Armous disappeared himself, taking with him a large number of followers. The compound where he had lived was searched revealing a large underground network of religious chambers and prison-like cells. In each of the cells was found a body, horribly mangled nearly beyond recognition. The informant had told the authorities what to expect, spinning tales of torture and worse. Some even wrote of cannibalism.

"At the time nobody had any idea where he had gone off to. It wasn't for more than a century and a half, when another cult was brought down, that the mystery was solved. Deep in the forests of southern Ghareth was discovered a large organization known as the Armites. When the local militia stormed the area, killing anyone they encountered and burning the structures, one man kept his head enough to keep some of the writings of the cult. It was these writings that told the story.

"The cult had been moved by Armous himself, as a result of advanced information on the raid which authorities had been planning. They had been hidden in the deep forests, growing and changing over the many decades. It's unsure how the staff came into the hands of the cultists, but the writings detail fully the uses it was put to. Sometimes it was purely an item of worship, but at others it was a tool of great power, used to ensnare the unwary and turn them into devout slaves. At the center of all this, the subject of worship it would seem, was the man Armous.

"When the cult was destroyed there were no accounts of Armous' death, neither was there word on the recovery of the staff." Thanduin paused, his eyes on some distant land. He gazed into space for long minutes, and the rest of the party had begun to think he was lost to the world, when he refocused his eyes and spoke again with conviction.

"This is why I have asked you to listen to my proposal. I believe that if you were to journey to this place and see for yourselves what lies within those ruined walls, you will discover something that will make the journey worth your time." He pulled a folded piece of parchment from his robes and opened the paper before them, laying it flat on the table.

"I have reconstructed a layout of the compound as it was before the destruction using the descriptions in the recovered texts. Given the existence of the underground chambers discovered in the original compound and the nature of the religious organization, there is an unusually high likelihood that this courtyard before the main structure is directly above those chambers.

"It is in these chambers that I am sure you will find the staff, and possibly many other hidden treasures. All that remains is for you to find a way into this network of tunnels and recover them. I care not for anything you may find there with the sole exception of the staff. Bring it to me and all else that you find is yours."

"And what if we find nothing?" asked Mark. "What makes the trip worthwhile for us then?"

"There are risks one must take when gain is involved." Thanduin spoke patiently, as if the group were nothing more than children to be instructed on the ways of life. "As I am commissioning this quest, I will put up a small fee in advance for supplies and such, along with an amount as recompense for your time. If you return empty handed, then you will have been paid in advance. But should you return with the staff and fail to turn it over to me . . ." Thanduin paused, looking the group over. "Then I suppose we shall see what we shall see."