Adeila was exhausted. She did not consider herself physically unfit, given the amount of walking that she did on most days, but taking a leisurely stroll down the beach and scaling an icy cliff unaided were different tasks entirely. And there had been unbearable cold, then interminable falling, then....The ground was so very soft, and it would have been lovely to simply lie there for a few minutes or hours or days and soak up the blessed warmth.

Gradually, though, she grew more aware of sounds - and voices - around her. Specifically Merrin's voice, sounding less than pleased with the state of things. The girl was shouting, and then, as quickly as the tirade had started, it stopped. All was silent, save for Garthag, but Adeila found that she could not quite bring herself to care overmuch about his opinion at the present. If all he could do after such an ordeal was speak of futility, then it would at least have no bearing on her own state of mind. She had quite enough occupying her mind without his assistance.

The presence of a hand on her shoulder ended all false hope of continuing to rest, and Adeila opened her eyes with a weary smile. "I'm alright, dear," she said, waving away Merrin's hand gently and slowly sitting up. "I'm just not quite as accustomed to this sort of activity as you are."

Svit, who had apparently already warmed up sufficiently, was crouched by her side. At the moment, he seemed to be contemplating the likelihood of catching the squirrel that was situated at the base of the nearest tree. He had no sooner made the pounce, though, than said squirrel scurried up the trunk and was obscured by branches. Rather than wasting time by pursuing, Svit merely made his way back over to Adeila and sulkily took up his customary post on her shoulder.

Adeila was quiet for a moment, then abruptly began unbraiding her hair in order to shake out the few remaining ice crystals. "I think," she said at length, "that I am beginning to understand how you came to arrive at my door in such a state."

Merrin stood in the middle of the grassy clearing, her expression not quite hiding mute desperation. She took a breath, gaze fixed on Garthag, and with some difficulty tore it away. It took her a moment to realize Kendath had gone, and another to remember that, had she been paying attention, she would have stopped him. But with Garthag there, spewing noxious insults, and her own tornado of emotions like a vindictively whirling dervish within her, Merrin didn't protest Kendath's leaving.

Instead she went and sat under the oak, hugging her knees to her chest, forcing herself to breathe past the tightness in her throat. The sunlit dapple of forest shadows spread over them like a canopy, and almost instinctively she raised her eyes to the deceptively blue sky before she knew what she was looking for.

Likewise, it was a moment before she realized Adeila had spoken. Merrin looked up. Oddly, her eyes met steady ones, perhaps not as serene as they had been but far calmer than the cobalt storm in her own. She didn't know what to say. Almost unconsciously, on watching Adeila, she raised a hand to tuck wayward red-brown hair behind one ear, feeling the damp of ice melting there.

A glance at Garthag - all her fervent dislike behind her eyes - and Merrin turned deliberately away. With a conscious effort, she forced herself to relax, and tentatively met Adeila's gaze again, this time with a wobbly attempt at a smile. "It wasn't this bad...before."

Somehow, the words did more to calm her inner war than all her attempts at forcing it back. Swallowing, Merrin unclasped her cloak and leaned forward, resting her chin on her knees. "Are you sure you're all right?"

_________________

"I am well enough," Adeila assured her, nodding slowly. "I have been better, of course, but I have also been far worse. I am alive, at least - an accomplishment, all things considered." Detachedly, with the air of one quite used to such things, she began inspecting the myriad cuts and scrapes inflicted on her palms by the jagged ice and rocks. Minor, perhaps, but certainly inconvenient. No doubt the others suffered similar abrasions.

"Let me see your hands," she instructed, grabbing Merrin's nearest wrist with one hand while using the other to remove a tiny pouch from her belt. She then scooped out a small amout of salve and began applying it before Merrin could put in a word otherwise. "This should reduce the stinging a good bit and speed the healing process. A weapon serves little purpose if you cannot properly grasp it."

Once she had finished her ministrations, she began doing the same for her own scrapes, wincing imperceptibly. "I never have been as skilled at healing myself as I have been others," she murmured wryly.

Merrin looked blankly first at her hands, which indeed bore evidence of the sharp rocks, and then back up at Adeila. "Thank you," she said, a little perplexed. It had been...what seemed a long time, a very long time, since anyone had done something as small as notice that her hands were cut.

There was a burst of birdsong in the tree above, and Merrin raised her eyes warily. Three bluejays streaked across the vibrant azure sky. Uneasily, she dropped her gaze, and found Adeila busily doing the same to her own hands as she had done to Merrin's.

Merrin watched, a slight frown creasing her forehead as if in some unresolved conundrum. Adeila was so...sure. She'd been through the same trauma Merrin had, pressed to a rock face in a blizzard cold enough to freeze warm blood in the veins, and yet she still sat there, calmly dispensing healing salve as if they weren't surrounded by an alien illusion - and Merrin was sure it was an illusion - of a world.

"Adeila?" she ventured, eyes still on the healer's face. "Why did you...how...I mean," she stopped, awkwardly, "you came with us. We can't prove to you who we are, or our intentions, or..." Merrin faltered. She didn't know how to say it. "Why do you trust us?"

_________________

Adeila considered for some time, seeming to search for the right wording. "I suppose I simply do," she said eventually with a small shrug. "You have given me no reason to think otherwise, and I can ordinarily identify a liar. Your companion did not need to point out to me that you were special - he merely elucidated your goal. The aura of the gods surrounds you, Merrin, whether you realize it or not."

She trailed off, looking down at her hands, which were now idly braiding some of the many strips of fabric trailing from her dress. It had been the will of the gods, simple as that. There was no need to question or prove something about which she was so certain. These people, with the exception of Garthag, were the first in centuries to actually try to end the war, rather than merely emerge from it as the "winning" side. It had never been a question of helping them or not.

"The gods willed it," she repeated out loud with an air of finality. "A fool I may be at times, but I have learned that they always know what is best, whether we like it or not."

The gods know what is best. Merrin dropped her eyes. What was best? How, how could she have struggled through so much, for it all to be for the best in the end? So many of their hardships had seemed entirely pointless, mere roadblocks in the way that had to be shoved aside, wasting the strength they needed to prevail in the end.

Very suddenly, a phrase caught in her mind. Have you so little faith, Merrin Dragonrider? they had asked on a hilltop washed in the vermilion of a bloody sunrise, when she had nearly drowned in helpless despair. She grappled with the thought. She was so tired...so tired of the endless struggle, the endless ordeal of being the Chosen of the gods. Why could it not be easier? Why must the way be so hard, when all she truly wanted was to do what they had asked of her? Surely they had the power to smooth her path?

"How do you know?" she asked, raising her head, and hearing the taut, desperate need for reassurance in her voice. For a moment shame filled her as she realized - how could she, blessed by the gods, be even thinking of questioning them? They had proven to her over and over that she was safe, she was cared for, she was loved, and still she could not accept that they knew better than she ever could?

Merrin swallowed. "I'm foolish to even ask," she murmured, half to herself. "They've given me the answer, over and over, why can't I..."

And yet she couldn't keep herself from searching Adeila's eyes. "Are you sure?" Merrin found herself asking. "I know it, I do, but I can't...it's...it's so hard to keep believing."

_________________

Disappointed, that was how he felt, disappointed at the fact that he could not simply anger them. Sometime ago it had been so easy, in fact too easy, but had they just grown sick of hearing him or were they able to suppress their anger? He could only guess, but at least there was something positive to this, they wouldn`t falter before any taunts or mind games that the shadowers might employ against them. Garthag gazed at the others as they left him alone standing amongst the tree`s and turned away, Kendath left deeper into the woods whilst Merrin and Adeila sat beside a tree. Garthag shrugged as, if he could care less.

"Hmh, no angry words to be thrown back at me? You people are starting to actually learn something, at least my training of you won`t be in vain and we might even live trough to see the end..."

He said partially to himself and gazed upwards with a thoughtful face before sitting down against a tree. Relaxedly he threw his hood over his head and leaned backwards, truth was he felt tired by it all, by how easy it had been to brake them before. They had toughened up, learned restraint and patience, it seemed remarkable compared to the first time he had cast insults at them. Garthag remained quiet for a time being, but tried to listened to the conversation of Adeila and Merrin, an older woman reassuring a younger trough her experience. Who did that remind him of?

Mother and sister, his family, everything he once had.... Why was he even thinking about them? They were dead, gone, nothing more than ashes and bones. Such attachments and clinging onto the past were pointless, excuses to pity yourself.

Garthag quietly grinned at the thought of his family again creeping into his mind, he needed to focus, there was no time for such sentimentality! He hated when people reminded him of his past, some people and events seemed all too much like them. He had thought he had been able to rid himself of such, but then again as long as he had lived within a mountain and only left to the outside world seeking conquest and power, he had been safe. Safe from the outside world, safe within a shell of unbreakable ice and companied by a being of the very cold itself.

A scaly wyrm that had only awakened feelings of revulsion and disgust in him, thought neither had never admitted it out loud. Kalma had seen Garthag as a puny warmblood whilst Garthag had thought Kalma as an overgrown reptile, that was only interested in treasure and power. Killing one another had been only a question of time. Time however always seemed so fleeting and there just wasn`t enough of it in order for him to complete his goals before some new turn of events brought him down to his knee`s.

The words of Merrin and Adeila had long since faded away from his ears, his eyes stared into emptiness and his thoughts were somewhere else, still thinking about that land, that mountain and the little village that once had existed on it`s mighty slopes... now only ashes and ruin because a certain `monster`.

_________________

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!

Adeila did not answer at first, instead simply resting a hand lightly on Merrin's arm. Stars above, she was so young! So young, and yet the turmoil so readily evident in her gaze spoke of one who had seen far more than most would witness in a lifetime. Not for the first time, Adeila herself wondered at the gods' decision to involve one so young and innocent, but it was that very purity that made Merrin so ideal. She had yet to grow hardened and world-weary like so many others, and that alone was a great advantage. A world as dark as theirs needed a light as bright as Merrin, the gods' chosen.

"To doubt is natural," she said quietly. "The gods do not ask that we follow blindly - only that we do, in the end, follow. Much has been asked of you, Merrin; I do not think that anyone, the gods included, would fault you for wondering whether the path that you have chosen is indeed the correct one. But I also do not think that anyone could endure all that you have endured without knowing, at least subconsciously, that there is a plan in place, and that in the end, it is worth it."

Adeila gave Merrin's arm a gentle squeeze and evinced a small smile. "Besides," she added lightly, "I rather think that the gods are capable of working their way around a few small insecurities. There was once a young woman who informed them in no uncertain terms that she would not, under any circumstances, enter the healing profession, and, well...you can imagine how that worked out."

The corner of Merrin's mouth quirked up in the faintest suggestion of a smile. "I know," she said. "I know, somewhere, it's just..."

They both knew what she meant, and in the intervening moment Merrin fell silent. She let out a long breath, and the knot in her stomach loosened marginally. She realized, in that moment, that she was fiercely and methodically pulling at the short green blades of grass beneath her hand, and stopped when a ragged gash across her fingertips twinged.

Adeila's words echoed in Merrin's mind as she raised her hand. A young woman who informed them in no uncertain terms... A place where salve was daubed across her palm throbbed, and Merrin looked up. "You?" she asked, folding her fingers into a fist and letting both hands rest in her lap. "I did that, once," she ventured, smiling a little down at her hands. "They wanted me to..." to free a Meiltha and his dragon. She stopped. "To...I, I told them they'd better have a plan. They...did."

A plan indeed. Merrin wondered what would have happened if she'd refused to free Kendath and Demon that night. "I suppose," she added, softly, "you're glad you did, now?"

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Was she glad? Of course she was. She had helped save many lives over the past few decades, and there was little more rewarding than knowing that a husband would still be there to provide for his family, or that a little one would live to see adulthood. There was, of course, the occasional patient who could not be helped, but Adeila did not believe in holding onto regrets. They only impaired one's ability to face the future.

It took a moment for her to realize that she had not answered out loud. "Oh yes, naturally," she replied hastily, nodding. "Healing comes quite naturally to me, you see. To be denied that, even by my own will, would have been positively miserable in the end. It simply did not fit in with my own plans - which I, naturally, thought best - at that time." She made a quiet sound not unlike a laugh and shook her head. "I was quite certain that I would never achieve much as a healer, too. Odd how we can sometimes deceive even ourselves."

The forest was toying with him.

Okay, okay. Forests don't toy with people. People without maps or common sense simply get lost in them. After all, trees and roots and shrubs aren't alive. This thought was just scampering desperately through Kendath's head, when a root tripped him for the third time.

"No," he muttered to himself, aloud, echoing his state of mind for the past twenty minutes. "That root did not trip me. I tripped over the root." He whirled on the root belonging to the guilty tree, with an urge to tell it to stop tripping him... and then almost fell over of his own volition. The tree in question was nowhere to be found. In fact, there wasn't a tree there at all. There was a puddle. And a toad, which cocked its head at him. How odd. Who ever heard of anyone tripping over a puddle?

The toad croaked, and the birds twittered in all innocence. Shaking his head, Kendath turned to resume his stroll down the path... Only, the path was gone. The ribbon of dirt simply trailed off. In fact, a tree sat solidly at its tapering end. "I'm not amused," he informed the tree. In response, a bright blue bird landed on its branch and chirped.

He walked around the tree to see if the path started again on the other side. It didn't. What a waste of time. Nothing for it other than to turn back, then. Except... He stopped dead in his tracks. It was gone. The entire path, including the part he'd already trod - the way back to the clearing. Vanished.

The toad belched.

"Shut up," said Kendath.

The toad belched again, more loudly this time.

"All right," he conceded, flicking it a scowl. "What...?" His eyes widened. The puddle, which had been on his left facing the other way, was now on his left again. The toad crouched forlornly on a dirt path. A dirt path that had changed its mind and was now meandering in a different direction entirely. Kendath glared at the toad. He glared at the path. He glared at the birds, now trilling their giggles in the treetops. "You know what," he announced to no one in particular. "I'm not playing your game. I know the way back, and I'll find it without your help." Resolute, he strode into the shrubbery.

A root tripped him.

"Fine! You win!" he shouted, scrambling back to his feet. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and smeared mud across his face. "I'm going! I'm going - see? Look, I'm going - happy now?" He stomped emphatically onto the ribbon of trail.

Shrieks of amusement from the treetops followed him all the way.

-----

He found his way back with no idea how he'd accomplished it. One instant he was trudging along the path, grumbling to himself and scowling at everything he had the misfortune to clap eyes on, and the next he was crashing out of the underbrush and stumbling, quite the awe-inspiring adventurer, into the clearing - at the exact spot where he'd left it an hour before.

He straightened and scowled at Merrin and Adeila. He scowled at Garthag too, but that was a given. "Trees," he said, dropping himself onto the ground and shaking the twigs out of his hair. "I hate trees."



[right, so here's the idea. The birds are actually shrieking (coherent) words... a direction, which is the way they need to follow to proceed. if someone more patient than Kendath would kindly figure this out, please then what'll happen, after they walk for a while, is instead of shrieking one direction, they'll start shrieking all four directions simultaneously. our little band of heroes will part ways. then they'll each be confronted with a series of apparitions from their past or possible future, which they need to defeat to pass the test. does that sound all right? if anyone has any ideas to add, feel free.]

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"Did you find anything that might indicate how we are to proceed?" Adeila inquired, tactfully ignoring the fact that Kendath appeared to have brought half of the forest back with him. Several birds began chirping once more overhead, and Svit, who had been coiled up on Merrin's lap for some time, got up and nudged Adeila's arm gently. Adeila reached down and stroked him absently before continuing. "This is quite a lovely place, of course, but we have much further to go, do we not?"

Svit nudged her again, this time more insistently. He kept glancing upward, as though the others were idiots for not noticing something. "What is it, sweet?" Adeila asked softly, looking up as well. She saw nothing besides branches and birds. "We will be moving on soon, I promise. You needn't bother the poor things."

Though the bond between Svit and herself was seldom powerful enough to communicate full thoughts (Adeila had heard that dragons and their riders conversed as easily as might two ordinary humans), there was certainly enough of a link present to convey emotions, vague sentiments, and occasionally even the odd word or two. And presently, Adeila was receiving a rather strong sense of irritation coming from Svit. There was clearly something that none of them were grasping.

Listen!

"...The birds!" Adeila suddenly exclaimed after a moment of listening closely to the ostensibly random chirping. "The birds are talking."

Merrin rose to her feet, already scanning the treetops in wide-eyed disbelief. "That can't be right," she said. "The birds?"

A vibrantly blue jay swooped sharply, digging talons into the shoulder of her cloak to perch there, trilling shrilly. There was a moment in which it peered sharply into her face, and even as Merrin instinctively raised her hands to drive it away the bird was gone, retreating to a treetop. In the moment of uncomfortable silence that followed, Svit chirped insistently.

"Birds," said Merrin in disgust, bending to pick up her cloak, which she'd discarded in the warm, faintly humid air. "Well, if there's nothing else to do -" she started, looking first at Kendath and then at Adeila. The jay shrilled piercingly, and Merrin cast it a look that clearly spoke of strong dislike. It darted down to perch in the fork of a tree, which stood suggestively by a narrow dirt trail that hadn't been there a moment ago.

There was a pause, and then Merrin shook her hair out of her face and marched quite deliberately toward it, with a telling swat at the jay. They'd gone several yards, in silence, before she realized that her fingertips were glowing an indistinct white. A glance behind told her that the clearing had vanished from existence.

A chill crept up Merrin's spine. She curled her fingers into a fist, which pulsed faintly with white fire.

_________________

Images of a wrinkled old sage, a middle aged woman and a young girl flashed trough his mind until the chirping plunged him out of his thoughts. It was the chirping itself and the voice that informed him of it, the voice of an old hag that screeched out it`s own rusted chirping.

"...The birds!"

Adeila exclaimed almost out of the pure silence and made Garthag wonder whether the person in question had gone mad, but he finally sharpened his senses, concentrating on the voices. Indeed, there was the chirping of birds as the only sound of life amongst the trees, a clue as to how they should proceed obviously. Frankly he had not sacrificed a single thought to how to proceed out of their current situation, somehow he had not even cared for a while. No doubt his incompetence was a shining example amongst them as even the old hag had come to notice such things, Garthag silently mustered himself up and prepared to head out.
He remained quiet, not even launching a fittingly sarcastic remark in Adeila`s way for noticing what he had not, and followed the others. He concentrated on the chirping yet remained on the heels of his companions, but after a moment of walking he slowed down his phase. There it was, the birds had changed positions and were chirping to their right, he could hear it clearly. Without a word Garthag wandered off, enchanted by the mysterious chirping, believing it to be a trustworthy compass for him to find his way out of this accursed forest. He walked for a moment until, he realized that he had been abandoned, had they not paid any attention to the sound?

No, they would have noticed a change in direction, Kendath in the least was no dull sensed fool and Adeila as the one to have marked the birds in the first place would not have missed such an obvious clue. Had they decided to let him proceed alone in order to separate themselves from him? Possible yet unthinkable, despite how despicable they thought him to be they would not diminish their allies like this, not him or his arcana powers in the very least. So the obvious conclusion was that this was yet another test and they been led astra...

"Perceptive as always Garthag"

A voice commented behind him and the mere memory of that man made pure rage run throughout his whole being. The voice was calm and refined, it did not make any unnecessary remarks, but simply stated the facts. Garthag`s hand clenched into a fist and he turned slowly around to face an old man wearing pale white robes. The two stood out in the middle of the forest like two snowballs in the fiery pits of the abyss, like mirror images of each others with the exception of age. The old man`s stance reflected his pride, influence and power, everything Garthag had once lusted for and everything he had come to despise about this man.

The old sage stood in a stoic silence after his comment while Garthag eyed him in with seething hatred and disgust. This could not be, before him stood a man, who he had slain with his own hands almost ten years ago, no it was a mere illusion. However the illusion in itself was a masterpiece, skillful enough to bring back those old feelings and memories enclosed deep inside Garthag frozen hollow shell.

"Oh how very clever of you!"

Garthag exclaimed towards the sky in frustrated anger for having to face this particular aspect of his past. The old sage remained quiet despite Garthag`s shouting, his blue eyes had nailed into Garthag as, if they tried to drill trough him. Garthag had always avoided that gaze, even now, he hated the way his old master used to look trough him as, if he was a book that could be opened and closed as he pleased.

"So this is how you turned out my gifted apprentice, truly, you are and were a disappointment. For all the crimes you have committed, you have gained nothing, only gained lessons of humility yet never learned a bit of it. Was it truly worth it my young apprentice? My murder? The slaughtering of the villagers and the final destruction of your home?"

Garthag stared at the figure, shocked and infuriated, how dared they throw this against him of all people?! It was a lie, they had no right to this...

"You have no right to speak about what I did, you died by my hand like a dog you baffled geezer and if it must come to that you will do so again."

"Indeed, but you remember do you not? You did not kill me because you were ever stronger than I? No, the gods simply favo.."

At that moment a ball of fire flew forth from Garthag`s palm and exploded where the old sage had been standing, but to no avail for the flames simply died out as, if stomped. The old sage simply shook his head and prepared to release a spell of his own, a very wide grin spread on Garthag face as both of them prepared to cast their spells. It was an eerie re-enactment of the past.... one that Garthag had tried to suffocate so hard... Who? Who killed them?

_________________

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!

As the others started for the trail, Kendath raised a hand as though to stop them. But as the underbrush devoured the swish of Garthag's white robes, the trees began to close, to grow inward, obscuring the path from sight -

With a strangled noise somewhere between a growl and yelp, he made a dash for the trail. By the time he stumbled onto the dirt path, the clearing behind him was already out of sight, swallowed by shrubbery.

"This way! This way!" A flurry of wings tickled his cheek as a brilliant flash of color swooped down and back up, where the treetops bristled with feathers and beaks. Was it his imagination, or were the trees themselves writhing, shifting, molding the path as it twisted like a serpent through the labyrinth of leafy green? He followed his companions closely, but more than once he had to stop dead and turn back where the trail abruptly ceased, or when he realized he was heading in the wrong direction entirely. The second time he almost walked into a tree, his hand unconsciously crept toward his falchion, but another storm of wings assaulted his arm. The birds were gone the next ephemeral instant, but the streaks of red across his hand stung all too tangibly. He shuddered and pressed on.

So engrossed was he in keeping his feet on the trail that he had to stop and think before he noticed something wrong. Strange. White robes had been sweeping in front of him only a moment before... "Where's Garthag?" he said aloud, looking up at Merrin and Adeila... or where he thought stood Merrin and Adeila. Gone. A mockingbird perched innocently on the tree that had taken their place. Kendath spun in a full circle. Gone as well was the path. He'd gotten himself lost.

Nice, an irritating voice in his head informed him, a bit unnecessarily. Very nice. Quite pathetic, actually. No surprises there. Kendath cursed under his breath and turned in another circle. A stray breeze plucked the treetops, which whispered at its touch. A twig crackled under his step. Aside from that... silence. The birds were gone. "Merrin," he said, trying to keep his voice level. "Merrin? Adeila?" Then, as much as he hated it, "Garthag?"

No one answered him. Not even a bird dared to chirp at his expense. Similarly, nothing warned him about the fire. Thus, he wasn't the least bit prepared when the trees behind him burst into flame. Abruptly, like an explosion, without a trace of smoke to bugle its onslaught. Raging, roaring... the orange flames scalding his lungs and leaping forth to lick his heels...

He ran.

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It took Merrin quite some time to realize that footsteps were no longer at her back. It took another moment for her to assimilate that before her feet, the path simply ended. Ahead stretched trees packed tight together, and thick undergrowth, and the absolute lack of any form of sentient life. Even the birds had gone.

Very slowly, every nerve tingling, she turned around. The same view presented itself to her, every direction she looked the same tangle of trees and vines. She remained frozen for a moment, gaze darting over everything around her as if disbelieving that there was no way out. Merrin took a deep breath. The sound of it, in the eerie stillness, almost made her jump.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and Merrin raised her eyes to the sky.

It was azure as ever, and she exhaled in relief, wondering where the strange premonition to look up had come from. Then a shadow flickered over her. She went very still, akin to a deer in a hunter's sights.

There was a whoosh of air above her, like that of batlike wings, and Merrin's fragile poise shattered. She broke into a dead run, underbrush twisting around her feet and tree trunks conspiring to block her path, and ever that shadow just above. Her breath was ragged in her throat.

Finally, creepers caught at her boots and Merrin fell headlong, sobbing for breath as she rolled over, terrified of what would dive any moment to incinerate her -

Nothing. She lay there in the brush, panting, tingling with tense apprehension.

When a hand jerked her upright, Merrin screamed before she could clap her hands over her mouth.

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