Merrin picked her way through the bundles with rather more care than she had been using a moment ago, now aware of the possibility of getting involuntarily stabbed. Dropping to sit cross-legged in a space between what seemed to be a bundle of spears and an extremely heavy covered basket, she looked not a little relieved at the reassurance. But nonetheless, she shrugged off the silver cloak - it wasn't needed in the glare of the noonday sun anyway - and folded it back into her pack.

The rest of the journey passed in relative silence. Merrin herself found that she had no lack of things to think about, however worrying most of them were. Feldwar...the Seeress...the prospect of returning to the now-abandoned Thyrault. The brief divination the Seeress had uncovered also provided ample food for thought, though by the time the sun's last few fingers were poking through a shroud of vermilion-hued cloud Merrin was dozing on a bundle of wooden spear-shafts, having missed a full night's sleep.

The lights of Eastguard Fortress - or rather, the periodic torches dotting its walltops - did not appear until well after sunset. Merrin shifted and awoke as the wagon rattled across the stretch of paved road leading up to the fortress's large gates. Even at this hour there was a short queue of wagons and the like waiting to be admitted into the city. Likely another hour and the gates would have been shut, leaving them to spend another night camping in the shadow of a few trees.

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To Kendath's relief, security seemed to have slacked down a notch since the last time he'd passed through Eastguard Fortress a few years ago, though he didn't remember the place being so dauntingly large. An entire new division had been constructed, complete with a keep and a wall. A small line of wagons snaked up the winding path to the fortress, perched atop jagged palisades overlooking a none too docile river.

As their particular wagon clattered over the footbridge up to the gatehouse, a few torches shifted and advanced to meet them. A cry came from the battlements, echoing along the walls: "Halt! Declare your name and business!"

Their driver said nothing, only reached inside a pocket of his tunic and extracted a rolled sheet of vellum. He handed it to a gatehouse sentry. The sentry raised his torch and scrutinized the missive. "You are welcome here. I trust you know your way around," he said gruffly. But as the wagon rumbled past, bundled weapons clattering, he held up a hand and indicated the extra passengers. "Explain."

"Hired mercenaries, sir. I agreed to take them to Port Dragonhelm in exchange for protection on the road."

The sentry narrowed his eyes. "Very well. You best be glad recent events put me in good humor, else I'd have their heads. Off with you, now."

This stroke of convenience - slack security among the Meiltha only went so far - made Kendath, face still shadowed under his hood, turn and stare over the side of the wagon. "Recent events?"

A harsh bark of laughter. "Where have you been these past few days - holed up somewhere? Haven't you heard the fall of Vryngard? All the men are taking days off... celebratin' and such."

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Luckily the wagon started moving again before the guard had time to assimilate the expression on Merrin's face. She attempted valiantly to control it but sudden and agonizing worry was evident anyway. "The fall of Vryngard?!" she moaned under her breath, knuckles white where they grasped the side of the wagon. "Gods, no - "

She broke off when they passed through another gate to what seemed the inner city, this one guarded only by a pair of soldiers idly eying the nearest tavern. Could nothing go [i]right? How could Vryngard have fallen when they'd been victorious only a few days ago - what had happened?

The worst of it was, Merrin knew that going back was not an option. The Shadowers were more important, that was beyond debate. But Wyvern, and now Vryngard - ! She realized her mouth was dry with sudden anxiety.

The wagon rattled to a halt outside the courtyard of a many-storied inn. "S'where I'm staying," the driver said, swinging down from his seat as stable boys came to take the horses. "We leave an hour after dawn tomorrow. If yer not here I'll be leaving without you."

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Kendath vaulted over the side of the wagon, the thud of his landing muffled by the gale of boisterous laughter released at the inn's door opening. The driver let the door swing shut behind him. Simultaneously, a random ale mug came flying out an unshuttered window and shattered on the flagstones. The next item to come flying out a window was not nearly so small.

The drunk, a Meiltha soldier by the look of his armor, picked himself up and grinned at the new arrivals. He mimed raising his ale in a toast. "Lovely night, what shay you? The godsh have truly bleshed us, yesh they 'ave." Without further delay he lurched back towards the inn's front door.

Kendath resisted the strangest urge to stick a dagger through the soldier's back. His own surge of emotion surprised him. The fall of Vryngard. A tactical disadvantage on the Renegades' part. He'd switched allegiances not a few moon-turns ago. Why should he care? He looked over to Merrin, pale and none too stable on her feet. Swiftly he moved to her side, resting his hands on her shoulders and leading her away from the inn, all the while murmuring, "They could have been lying. This isn't the end of the war, Merrin, not yet. They'll keep fighting. There's nothing we can do about it...."

Even as he spoke, he sneered at himself. The words sounded hollow, blown away like the dust on the night wind.

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Merrin twisted to look up at him, eyes fear-filled no matter how her expression tried to hide it. "They can't be lying," she said, voice only barely rising above a whisper. "Look, look at them, they're all celebrating."

Responsibility weighed stiflingly now, pressing down as if it meant to smother her. Merrin could have cried - but again guilt swept through her. It wasn't Kendath's fault, wasn't his burden to bear. She managed to remain dry-eyed, though it required an agonizing moment of grappling inwardly with herself. The night wasn't cold but Merrin wrapped her arms around herself anyway as if to ward it off. "As long as I...as long as we defeat the Lich," she said, clinging to that one line in a sea of uncertainty. If she didn't...Vryngard had already fallen. More would follow.

She sucked in an uneven breath and found the mental fortitude to meet his eyes again. "After that...we can go back to Vryngard."

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Vyngard fallen? Most excellent news

Garthag thought to himself, he had not forgotten his earlier ambitions and once this ordeal would be over with he could once more concentrate on building a place for himself in the world. Should the renegades be weakened at that time and the Meiltha made to work with him, there would be less problems in his way unlike the last time. Garthag quietly began to hymn to himself after hearing the news as, if to announce everyone that he was on a good mood all of the sudden.

Garthag walked joyously after Merrin as Kendath helped her towards the inn and suddenly placed his own hand onto Merrin`s shoulder on the opposite side from Kendath. He spoke with a quiet voice so that only the two of them could hear him.

"Please Kendath don`t be so naive, had he been lying then he would have actually known that we are their supposed enemies...Yet indeed the war is not over yet dear Merrin and do look on the bright side all tough things look dim for you right now they have always room to improve... the only thing left to lose for you is your dear friend Kendath am I not correct....

Then again you know that when things are dim for you, they might just be bright for me and once this little alliance is over I`ll make sure that I´ll evaporate dear Kendath, just for you. That`s a promise, but for now it seems that your lives depend on me."

Garthag promised with a whisper, but was quite certain that Kendath heard them, but suddenly threw an insulted gaze towards him.

"Private conversation"

He said before smirking.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Kendath bumped Garthag onto his list of people needing a dagger in their backs. Naive? Was it so wrong to - ? He angrily bit off the thought before it completed itself, finishing off with a lame self-assurance that Garthag could try to evaporate him but would succeed about as far as Kendath could throw him.

This inn wasn't the worst of them. Everywhere they looked, there were more common rooms of laughter and drinking. It grated on Kendath's nerves. An hour later they admitted defeat and he took the lead again, setting a rapid pace for the west gatehouse, directly across the keep and opposite the one through which they'd entered. A patch of grass a little ways off, sheltered under the eaves of the stables, marked their resting spot for tonight.

"Might as well get comfortable," he muttered, rummaging in his pack for rations. The process took a while - fortress walls cast long shadows, and the stables blocked out the torchlight from the battlements. He extracted three loaves of dried bread and passed it around.

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Merrin toyed with the unappetizing hunk of food for quite some time before realizing she really wasn't hungry. Having downed it eventually purely because she knew she'd regret not eating later, she leaned her head against the wooden planking of the stable's wall and, in the lack of conversation, tried to let her optimistic side find some chink of light it what was seeming to be falling darkness.

She'd only come up with the fact that her family, at least, was safe, before she abandoned the attempt and leaned forward to hug her knees to her chest against the slight chill in the night air. The sounds of raucous celebration from the nearest inn did nothing for Merrin's current despondent state. A deep-seated disgust for wallowing in self-pity did rather more. You have family in Riversmeet, where the Meiltha aren't and likely won't go, and you have Kendath. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

A glance up and sideways at the latter reason for pulling herself out of dejected anxiety revealed that he wasn't asleep yet. "Your falchion's different," she commented softly in an attempt at conversation, reaching to touch the hilt. It had been, since they last visited Vryngard, and no longer bore a Meiltha insignia.

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Kendath sat with his legs sprawled out before him, one bent at the knee. He rested his forearm on said knee and toyed with a dagger. He shifted slightly, and the emerald on his falchion's pommel glittered. "It's different." His voice fell flat, though an undercurrent of challenge ran underneath it, as though daring her to ask.

The dagger plunged into the grass, scraping up a mound of turf. He dropped his head against the stable wall and closed his eyes. The same question resurfaced: Why should he care? Yet thinking back on those pristine spires, charred with flame... thinking back on Sage and the innocent civilians he'd seen around the marketplace... seeing Merrin's despondent face...

He had to say something, regardless of the fact that him opening his mouth in times like these usually ended in debacle. Garthag was out of earshot. What had he to lose? "About Vryngard," he said quietly, then proceeded to make an utter fool of himself. "I'm sorry - I mean I'm not - it's not that..." Curse it! Anyone - Adanil or Feldwar even - would have known what to say, would have known the words to make Merrin smile again. Anyone but him.

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"Sorry for what?" said Merrin softly, toying with the long blades of grass a few inches past the toes of her boots. Her hair fell past her face, which was turned down and shadowed, but nothing in her voice indicated that her expression was less somber than it had been a moment ago - though it was tinged with tentative curiousity, as though she feared to ask too much or go too far.

Leaning back and shaking her hair over her shoulders, Merrin turned the few blades she'd pulled up in her fingers and looked up at him. His face, too, was shadowed, but she could glean a certain amount of - what? It wasn't something she was accustomed to seeing there. "You shouldn't be sorry. I...I was scared. Scared you'd come...for me...and something would happen to you. But you came anyway."

There was a brief pause and, letting the fragments of grass drop, Merrin moved over enough to lean her head on his shoulder.

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Kendath didn't stiffen or shrink back, but he didn't put an arm around her shoulders either. His gaze, boring a hole into the stone wall across from him, determinedly didn't meet hers. Really, what was he sorry for? They'd left the siege of Vryngard, retreating without an ounce of remorse - he still believed it wouldn't have made a difference either way. Perhaps if they hadn't lost the Cloud Crystal... if he hadn't been as stupid as to land them on the bluff, in plain view...

The dagger plunged into the turf, harder this time. A clod of dirt clung to his hand, and he irritably brushed it away. The silence between him and Merrin, far from comfortable, dragged on. Words formed in his mind. I know there's nothing we... I could have done. I'm teetering on the edge of something I can't name. Events are rushing headlong into the abyss. Tell me, Merrin, why do I feel so damn powerless?

His fist clenched around the dagger, which plunged downwards a third time. A strangled noise somewhere between a sigh and a snarl escaped him. He opened his mouth, and the words that came out were those he'd expected all along. "Our amiable driver expects us up at daybreak. I suggest you get some sleep."

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A sigh escaped Merrin's lips and she straightened, looking up at him as if to say something...but what? What did she need to do the spark a rare moment when he wasn't empty-eyed and somber, spark a wry grin or a touch, an arm around her shoulders?

"Aren't you going to tell me, then?" she managed quietly, hardly meaning to say the words and almost regretting them when they left her lips. Almost. Another shrug, another cold answer in monotone would have made her regret them. Talking to him could have been groping in the dark for how little she understood what to do. It made her words halting. "Please, Kendath - I...I can't say how grateful I was, at Vryngard. Without you..." why couldn't she say it? Why couldn't she tell him how empty the world would have felt without him? Gods, couldn't he even look at her?

She was glad for the dark, hiding the flush that rose to her cheeks upon recalling the storm of sobs she'd unleashed while he held her after that. After that nightmare. "Without you I'd be dead. Twice over, three times over. That's the truth of it, Kendath...tell me why you're sorry. Please."

Her words met what felt like a wall and Merrin looked away, looked anywhere except up at him, waiting for what seemed inevitable. To say all that while looking at him had seemed to take years...to say all of it and watch for his slightest change in expression, the slightest thing to indicate that maybe she could get past the barrier behind his eyes.

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Why - why - WHY did she have to do this? Why did she have to meticulously peel apart every word he said, searching for hidden meanings and demanding that he explain? He wanted to be alone, feel alone - he couldn't even understand his own emotions, much less voice them aloud!

Yet an infinitesimal part of him realized the truth, no matter how the rest of him denied it. To voice his emotions would be to admit that he had emotions, that he had cared for Vryngard. And while the rest of him cried for solitude, that same infinitesimal part irrevocably didn't want Merrin to leave. She'd been looking at him with those penetrating blue eyes, almost begging him... How had it turned into this? He'd first spoken with the intention of cheering her up. Debacle, indeed. He should never have opened his mouth.

"I don't know what I'm sorry for," he exploded, angry without reason. "The least I could do was come back for you. I didn't fight. I didn't feed Thorone any Meiltha secrets. I'm a pathetic excuse for a Renegade, all right?" He leapt to his feet and stalked across the patch of grass to the opposite wall, hoping she wouldn't follow, then shot over his shoulder, "I thought I told you to get some sleep."

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Garthag had laid down onto the grass farther away from the two in order to get some peace and hopefully some rest, but he couldn`t help trying to listen to them, but all that was in vain as they were too far away. Garthag shrugged as he came t the conclusion that he might at least have some peace for now and threw his hood over his head. Yet as he was almost about to fall asleep he heard steps closing in and glanced towards Kendath who told Merrin to get some sleep.

Garthag chuckled and pretended to mind his own business until he stared down, but didn`t remain silent.

"Seems like... things got unbearable?"

Garthag inquired as he could only guess as to the reason why Kendath fled, but surely it was something that bothered him a great deal.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Merrin took an involuntary step after him and stopped, expression troubled. "I didn't mean..." she began, and faltered. That wasn't what she'd meant it to come to at all. I didn't ask you to feed Thorone secrets, or fight, or...I just wanted...

Except she didn't know what she wanted - or rather, she did, but would not for the world have let it pass her lips, especially not with him glowering at her from the opposite wall. How had what she'd meant to be a simple thank you come to be something...else? "Kendath..."

There wasn't anything to do, it seemed, that wouldn't make it worse. "You shouldn't be sorry," she finally said, after the silence between them had stretched painfully. "It...it wasn't your fault. Nothing was. I was stupid enough to get myself taken prisoner, and - and to lose the Crystal - and..." Merrin couldn't even think what she was trying to say.

She turned miserably to go. "Right. Sleep." Was it so hard to tell him thank you?

Apparently so.

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Kendath wanted nothing more than to melt into the stone wall behind him, simply so he could find some solitude. But solitude, like everything else they'd striven for, seemed unattainable. He flicked Garthag a glance that could freeze a hot spring. What was it to him? The bloody wizard seemed happy at Vryngard's defeat.

"If you're here to gloat, kindly position yourself where I can't see you," he replied with a considerable amount of tact. The same dagger as before twirled, a blur, between his hands. He leaned against the wall and idly counted the torches on the battlements. Somewhere down the street, a burst of raucous laughter exploded loud enough to topple any tavern.

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