Adeila walked along the narrow stone path, reveling in the fresh morning air. The young daughter of one of the local farmers had fallen ill with a fever the week prior, and so Adeila had set out shortly before dawn to go check on the girl before returning to her more newly acquired charges. Fortunately, all had been well, and the couple had insisted upon paying with a basket of eggs. Quite unnecessary, considering that Adeila had simply given them some herbs and a few pieces of advice, but it was a nice gesture, and the eggs would make a delicious breakfast.

The path wound around the hill, and she was met with a welcome sight - T'mor and Merrin, brother and sister, were sitting near the edge of the shore and talking. Ordinarily, she might have gently scolded the young woman for not allowing herself to rest properly, but it was evident that a different sort of healing was taking place here. Adeila firmly believed that the body would heal only when the spirit was ready, and Merrin's spirit very obviously required healing of its own. Besides, it was a short walk, and the ocean air alone could do wonders.

Removing her sandals at the door, Adeila hung her cloak on a somewhat askew coatrack and set the basket down on a table next to the fire. Svit immediately scampered across the room and climbed up her robes to take his customary place on her shoulder, chirping happily the whole time. "Mmm...you missed your mummy, didn't you?" she asked, tickling him under the chin. "You could have come along, had you been kinder to their poor cat last time." Svit let out a series of positively indignant noises, which then gave way to a few chirps and a pointed look in Kendath's direction.

"Oh dear..." Adeila murmured, letting Svit down onto the ground. "I do hope Svit hasn't been too much trouble, dear," she said, now addressing Kendath. "He rather enjoys making new friends, you see, but he's also a bit...enthusiastic in making sure that they follow my instructions. He simply wants to make sure that you get better. No hard feelings, I hope?"

"...I'll pass through Baste, and then up the coast. I thought to go to Vryngard, but in light of recent events..." T'mor trailed off with a shrug. "Probably best to avoid it."

"I'm sure Meiltha need their smiths as much as Renegades do," said Merrin, voice tinged with bitterness. "They'd welcome you with open arms."

"Aye." There was a silence, in which he glanced at her sidelong. "Can't see myself quite playing such a hypocrite there. And I'd imagine being related to you would make me not quite such an ordinary blacksmith."

Merrin didn't immediately reply. The thought had occurred to her, vaguely, that perhaps she should be careful who knew of the Tanner family, however lowly their standings were. The Meiltha were not stupid...and avoid the subject however she might, Merrin hung in the delicate balance between Meiltha and Renegade, a balance that had swung both ways in the last two milleniums...a balance she could tip. She exhaled. "Aye. Best avoid Vryngard. Best not go about telling people you know me, either."

He laughed wryly. "Difficult to keep me from boasting of your exploits. But aye, I care more for my own skin than that."

Merrin smiled, a little wistfully. "The twins would love it, wouldn't they."

"Oh aye. Merrin the dragonrider's quite their private hero. They miss you, you know."

Adasin and Liand would be nine, ten summers by now. The thought was startling. "They...they remember me?"

T'mor grinned, leaning back to toy with a few blades of grass he'd pulled up. "You think they'd forget? Rhie goes saucer-eyed whenever they mention you."

Merrin dug her toes into the sand, conjuring up images of the twins from five years ago, an image of little Rhie, whom she'd never even met. "I miss them, too," she said softly. "Five years is a long time."

"Aye. There's Adeila, coming back...I've work to finish. Spar with me, later? You do know how to use that saber?" he finished with the wry inquiry, rising to his feet.

Merrin grinned. "Aye, I like to think so."

She watched him go, thoughts of her family whirling like dust motes - thoughts not disturbed for years but by infrequent letters. With a sigh, Merrin rose and slowly walked back to Adeila's vine-hung abode. It had been a relief to tell T'mor everything she'd kept silent, even with the pain that came in recounting. The thought of telling Garthag anything was mildly ridiculous, and she'd never been close enough to Adanil to confide in him...or Jhoran, now. And Kendath...Kendath. No, Merrin hardly had a confidante among her companions.

She let herself in, noting that Kendath seemed awake if not congenial, and offered Adeila a "Good morning," before sitting down to run her fingers through her hair and attempt to gather its wayward tendrils into a braid down her back.

It didn't work, as usual, and with a shrug she abandoned the pursuit and watched Svit skitter past, giving Kendath's cot a wide berth. Merrin quirked an eyebrow as the little lizard scuttled up onto her lap and took up residence, flicking his tongue out at the cot opposite. "Come on, he's not so very bad," she told the tiny creature. "A little lacking sleep, perhaps." She grinned across, tentatively, at Kendath.

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Garthag had not received straight answer or given the opportunity to shoot away annoying questions last night, he was mildly annoyed by this fact, but managed by getting a well needed rest. He had been lucky enough to avoid the little pests, Svit`s, attention all tough he had to confess that the thing intrigued him quite a bit. It would make an ideal pet as the hag, who inhabited this poor cot had probably realized. Yet Garthag had his suspicions about whether the lizard would even dare come near him, creatures like that seemed always to be able to tell more than humans normally did at first sight. Garthag had kept his eyes closed despite being awake and heard as the two of his `precious` companions started off another one of those awkward conversations that had no point at all. He slowly opened his eyes and gazed at the two, pretending to have woken up.

"I see you two still continue that annoying babble of yours, but I suppose one must act like that in order to appear normal, despite how awkward it might seem. Yet then again you deserve the right to do so after acting as my escape diversion for that sea dragon..."

He said with a slight grin, but his last words were more of a mutter than a clear sentence. He allowed his eyes to wander around the cot and nailed them briefly into Adeila, he didn`t want to believe that this woman was purely aiding them out of selfless reasons. Every single healer he had ever met always demanded a heavy payment, the simple reason was pay or I might `accidentally` slip something into your water that shouldn`t be there. Not to mention he didn`t find such a choice of profession reasonable, even being a priest paid off more than this and no one in this world had it in their heart to help strangers out of their pure good will.

Garthag stumbled up and gazed at the little chirping creature, which had now taken a place on Merrin`s lap, flicking it`s tongue at the bothered Kendath. He found the scenario quite truthfully amusing, a former Meiltha assassin couldn`t even catch one little lizard, Kendath had truly lost his edge so to speak.

"A shame I haven`t come across any of these earlier in my life, it surely would have made a wonderful pet, but then again my former associates would not have tolerated such... inconveniences..."

He pondered out loud as he stretched his fingers, which seemed rather disgusting as they let out a loud crunching sound.

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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!

The inconvenience stared up at Garthag for a few moments, blinked, then promptly sunk its inconveniently sharp teeth into the mage's inconveniently placed hand. The teeth remained there for a second and were only removed when Svit jumped down and darted across the room to hide behind Adeila's robes.

"Oh dear, did Svit bite you?" Adeila asked, sounding rather unconcerned. "He does that on occasion, if he doesn't like someone. Or perhaps he was merely trying to give you a valid reason for remaining in my home. It is rather hard to tell with him, sometimes." She finished placing the eggs in a pot of water and hung the pot over the fire. "Could you keep an eye on this for me, dears? It needs to get to a boil, then cook for eight or so minutes. I should be back in time to get them out."

She made her way over to Garthag and, ignoring all attempts at resistance or protest, began leading the mage off into the adjacent room. "Do come with me, sir. I need to have a look at that bite on your hand, and it wouldn't hurt to treat any other injuries you have now. I wasn't quite able to check last night, as I did not wish to disturb the others, but it's better to be safe than sorry. It would be dreadful if there was an infection of any sort...." The sound of Adeila's chatter died out as she firmly shut the door behind them.

"Shut up," was all Kendath threw in Garthag's direction, but he found further speech unnecessary when the lizard he didn't like suddenly did something likeable. For a moment he watched Adeila lead Garthag out of the room, before he turned away with a short chuckle. He'd have to reconsider future relationships with Svit.

Nodding good morning at Merrin, he slowly rose to his feet and took a few steps. The sleep, along with Adeila's treatment, had healed his physical injuries, though the soreness caused by his plunge into the ocean hadn't abated completely. Bending down, he retrieved his weapons belt and frowned at it. It needed cleaning. Not surprising if he found mildew sprouting on the leather. His falchion and daggers, which he'd removed from their scabbards and arrayed in an inconspicuous nook under his bed, underwent the same inspection. No rust yet. They'd dried quickly after the swim last night.

Satisfied, he sheathed them and turned to wash his face at the basin next to his cot. The cold water cleared his mind, which promptly began a logical thread of reasoning that cleared minds are wont to instigate. The Seeress's message. The task they'd been assigned. Thyrault, Shadowers, a bargain with a certain thrice-cursed mage... He stared at the pinpricks of sunlight dancing across his reflection in the basin. One day. Just one day of thoughtless nothingness during which they could forget their stupid quest to cast the stupid Shadowers into oblivion. Was that too much to ask? That night's sleep had been the most fulfilling rest he'd gotten in a month.

With a sigh, he turned around to face Merrin. "If that healer's expecting pay, we don't have any. We don't know where we are either, or how to get to Thyrault from here. Or what to do with her." He pointed at Kiril, still curled up under her coverlets. He looked away, then looked back and couldn't help but add, with a touch of savagery, "The old mariner was an idiot."

_________________

"I don't think she's expecting pay," said Merrin quietly in response. "And if she is she'll hardly be surprised to find we don't have any. We'll ask her about Thyrault. It can't be far."

With a sigh she glanced at Kiril. "She can't come with us." That much was obvious. Merrin was bleakly aware of the fact that there was no guarantee even she would come out of this alive, and it was patently ridiculous to bring Kiril along when she'd be far safer somewhere else. "Maybe...maybe T'mor knows of someone. Or Adeila."

There was a brief pause. "She's angry," said Merrin softly. "Angry at Pundy, angry at life...she didn't deserve it. Any of it."

The subject wasn't pleasant to dwell upon. That was all they'd talked about, lately...what to do next, how to do it, what needed to happen in the interim. They could worry about that tomorrow, Merrin found herself thinking. Tomorrow could have the problems - because if she had anything to say about it, today was going to be halfway enjoyable. She reached to tug on her boots. "Adeila's busy, we can ask her later, and Kiril needs her sleep." She paused. "T'mor would like to meet you."

_________________

It took a moment for Kendath to assimilate this. T'mor? He flashed back to the man who'd enveloped Merrin in his bear-like hug. The burly man, with the build of a blacksmith and the protective eye of an older brother. A strange notion - associating him with Merrin. She'd never mentioned him before, and his abrupt entrance made Kendath ponder questions about Merrin that he'd never paused to consider until now.

Kendath hadn't a clue what it was like, having an older sibling. Meeting Merrin's, though not an unpleasant notion, was enough to give him pause. He coughed, assumed a nonchalant air. "Right. Uh. Lead on, then."

_________________

Merrin cast one last glance at Kiril and and slipped out, beckoning for Kendath to follow. She couldn't recall, come to think of it, ever really talking about her family with him. Perhaps they both avoided the subject due to the little she knew about his...and that little was decidedly not happy.

She glanced up at him, ever wary for the wall-like responses that could meet her attempts at conversation. "T'mor's...a blacksmith. Da's a tanner but Jayen's taking that over...and T'mor swore he never wanted to smell another tanning vat." She shrugged, grinning momentarily. "And then there's me."

_________________

Garthag slightly grinned as the small creature sank it`s teeth into his hand, but expression showed that he was more amused than in pain. Garthag followed the creature fleeing back into the safety of it`s masters robes. When Adeila noted Garthag about the wound, he gazed at it and made a shrug as it seemed like a minor inconvenience. He could simply wrap a few bandages around it and in time it would close, of course he would have to make sure that the creatures teeth or saliva didn`t have anything uncalled for in them.

"I believe your first assumption is correct, but I find that violence is hardly uncalled for yet then again it is only a minor being, hence the word pet."

When Adeila suddenly, ignoring Garthag`s protests, led him into the other room he couldn`t help feel a little bit humiliated. Normally he would have cast some inventive spell on her as a mean of torture for her arrogance, but then again he had actually wanted to question this woman about her motives. Garthag gazed around at the room they were in and sat down to a suitable spot, he took a relaxed position and nailed his eyes on Adeila.

"I think that you are either a saint or a hypocrite for tending to our wounds for free, unless the price has yet to be named?"

Garthag inquired whilst brushing his long hair back, he hadn`t bothered to cut them in a long while nor put them on a ponytail. Even his beard had grown longer, which make his look far more older and more `wiser` than he actually was. Yet this lady`s humble appearance and attitude was what Garthag found bothersome, also the little creature was rather annoying and suspicious just like it`s master.

_________________

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!

The sun had been shy in Adeila's ward, but outside, it smiled in all its saffron glory, casting halos of gold on the thatched roofs and setting the sky to an almost blinding azure. Beyond the cottages could be spotted the white and tan of patched sails, as well as a glitter from the brilliant turquoise gem of the ocean. The early autumn chill that had bitten the wind last night was gone, retreated before a salty warmth that breezed through the village and rustled the palm fronds hanging from wooden doorways and wicker porches.

It was a tight community, small but unlike any other Kendath had ever seen. The huts were raised on stilts for insurance against storms, but the thin stilts, far from precarious, only seemed to dig into the sand with tenacity rivaling that of stone foundations. The villagers knew their fellows and recognized strangers on sight, as became apparent within the first three minutes of stepping across Adeila's threshold. Hesitant waves from the elderly couple on their porch next door. Yelled greetings from a troop of fishermen hauling their empty nets out to sea. Wide-eyed stares from the children playing ball outside.

Kendath sidestepped a donkey-pulled cart laden with oars and part of a mended sail. The village was bustling and difficult to navigate, as no streets existed - simply clumps of dwellings and shops and the empty space between - but he didn't mind the delay. He inhaled deeply, reveling in the warmth on the breeze and the steady roar of the nearby ocean. It chased away memory of the island - the icy grip of the mist, the breakers screaming against cold stone. Yes, this community was beautiful. A grin teasing the corners of his lips, he raised his hand to return some of the villagers' greetings.

Merrin was saying something, and Kendath jolted himself around to listen. "No other dragonriders?" he wondered, surprised. "What made you decide...?"

_________________

"I like to think that I'm neither," Adeila replied lightly as she began to treat the 'wound' with a detached air. The bite was hardly anything serious, and she might have ordinarily left it alone, but it was an excuse for getting the man - Garthag, she recalled - out of the room. She was already beginning to detect why it was that Merrin disliked the mage. His cynical remarks seemed to darken the atmosphere wherever he went. "I charge only as much as the patient can afford. You have nothing to give, unless I am mistaken, and so it will cost you nothing. The gods will provide anything more that I require."

She wrapped the bandage once more around his hand and tied it off with an air of finality, meeting his gaze evenly. "I ask that you kindly recall that you are here only because I allow it. You will be pleasant toward my patients and do nothing to disrupt their recovery, or you will leave. Do we have an understanding?"

Merrin herself was struck by how familiar the atmosphere was to that of home. Riversmeet would have teemed with the same activity on any given day, and though it wasn't a fishing village the similarities were there nonetheless. She wondered if T'mor had chosen it for that particular characteristic, though from the way he talked it didn't sound as if he stayed anywhere for very long. Purely from instinct, she angled her steps for the corner of the village normally occupied by a sooty blacksmith's shop, which would be where T'mor was.

"I don't know," she said honestly in response to Kendath's inquiry, a little self-conscious. "I'd make a horrible housewife, and...minstrels tell so many stories about dragonriders. They're all wrong, of course." She laughed wryly. "It's not all heroism and glory. But it seemed that way. I just...wanted something else."

She shrugged. "There aren't many peasant dragonriders. It was hard, at first. It's still hard. But it's worth it."

For a minute she struggled with how to ask the same of him. Would he really want to talk about becoming a Meiltha dragonrider, now he was Renegade? Or at least, not Meiltha any more. Merrin couldn't imagine he would.

It was with a tinge of relief that she spotted the smithy, and T'mor working the bellows. He was discussing something with a man, presumably an order for nails or a horse shod, as Merrin recalled - that had been the only thing the smithy in Riversmeet ever did. She put a hand on Kendath's arm and pointed. "There. Come on, I'll introduce you."

_________________

She was amusing, in fact she was hilarious, making demands to him? He already ran trough the scenario of setting her alight, but decided against it as it would cause too much of a hassle. She was devoted, caring, but strict as well, painfully like someone he had known in his childhood. Yet whatever Garthag was thinking never showed on the outside and his smirk or sharp glare didn`t fade away at those thoughts.

"Which recovery might that be good lady? Their physical or their mental recovery? They have come a long way and have dealt with physical wounds just fine thus far, but mental... that is far more trickier, no? And I think that their wounds that we cannot see are far more deeper than those they have gained physically, as a healer you might guess this?"

Garthag inquired and pulled his hand away, in all honesty they both knew the wound was nothing and never required any treatment, but they both had actually wanted to have a chat with each others. The `wound` just provided an excuse for them to depart from the room where the patients were. Garthag spun his wrist around as, if to check his hand, and looked back at Adeila.

"Very well I shall honor your request all tough it does take away some of the fun I usually have with those two... but you know..."

Garthag said as he adjusted his position and scratched his neck with a bothered face, in the end she was just another of the many inconveniences that he had met along the road. Everyone in Garthag`s life since a certain faithful day had become inconveniences or tools that he would toss away without any show of attachment or care. Power had been all that he had built his life on and with that power he had planned to create something, but had failed in a gamble for revenge and other ambitions. Now twice he had lost almost everything except for his life, to him everyone except himself, seemed blessed.

"Merrin and Kendath, those two are rather lucky, to have been able to come this far and having sacrificed so little. Certainly they lost their dragons and Vyngard along with many renegades, but they still have each others. Yet the irony in that is, if they reach the end of their journey, it will be that very bond that will be their downfall.

They are so gullible... or will the gods save their chosen and her companions all tough I should note I am not one of those companions, but I think you could have guessed that all by yourself."

Garthag said as he examined her reaction, which no doubt would be calm, perhaps angered yet in some way respectful even gentle as it seemed to somehow come along with her character.

_________________

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!

Peasant dragonrider. Chosen of the gods. Kendath's only response was a wry shake of his head. Who said divinity lacked a sense of irony? Again though, he couldn't help but marvel at the contrast between Renegade and Meiltha. Half of all Meiltha dragonriders were peasants or worse - murderers and brigands from all corners of the world. And at the opposite end of the heirarchy... High Meiltha and the Bloodstone Court. Arrogance in the extreme. He wondered if Renegade nobles were any different.

A stifling blast of heat informed him of their arrival. T'mor hadn't noticed them yet, and Kendath hung back, uneasy. To say the man was a bit brawny was an understatement. To say Kendath was a bit nervous was something he'd never admit.

_________________

Oblivious to Kendath's less than eager state of mind, Merrin sidestepped several pieces of equipment - it was a large smithy, larger than in Riversmeet - and reached T'mor just as he was finishing with the fisherman.

"Right, I'll have those for you by tomorrow," he was saying, and turned to toss Merrin a sheathed weapon. "Been hoping you'd come. Tell me what you think of that."

Merrin glanced down at it. The rapier was heavier than hers had been, but the weight felt nicely balanced. She turned it over in her hands momentarily. "I actually came to - well, T'mor, this is Kendath. Kendath, T'mor."

T'mor held out a slightly sooty hand that (Merrin noted) probably could have completely enveloped hers. "Pleasure meeting you," he said cheerfully. "You're a dragonrider too, then?"

_________________

Unaccustomed to this whole business of shaking hands, Kendath stared at T'mor's sooty palm blankly and raised his hand simply by reflex. His enthusiasm or lack of it seemed not to deter T'mor, who seized his hand in a bone-crushing grip. Kendath swore he heard his fingers crack, though the burly man's smile indicated congenial ignorance. He wrestled his lips into what he hoped passed for a grin.

"The term 'dragonrider' implies actually having a dragon," he returned dryly, concealing the grimace that accompanied the remark behind a neutral deadpan.

He made no attempt to smooth the awkward pause that followed, instead taking the chance to look around. The smithy itself was no different than any other smithy on the continent. The bellows T'mor had been working earlier sat beside a red-hot forge. In a corner next to the slack tub was a pile of finished weapons. More weapons were showcased on the walls, and a cursory glance was enough to boast of their forger's skill. They made a strange sight, filling the smithy of a quiet fishing village. So even a secluded community like this one couldn't escape the tides of war.

"These... aren't bad," he found himself concluding, in earnest. "Better than many experienced Meilth - better than many I've seen."

_________________