Katarina the Dragonslayer and the Foebreaker's Curse

Chapter 3 - Disciple

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The rider approached, leaving a billowing plume of dust in his wake. Oren remained silent, but he kept one hand in his satchel. Katarina squinted. He’s alone. He rides as if pursued, but there's no one else on the road.  

The stranger slowed to a trot, and then halted two hundred yards away. The cart stopped. Kat peered out from behind it and smirked. That horse is better dressed than he is. 

The stallion was proud, lavishly tacked, well groomed, and wore a fine woven barding of supple leather. It snorted heavily and stomped as if it were in a hurry and not its master. Its rider, however, was of about average height, broad and muscular of build, and dressed in plain leather armor which looked as though it had been covered in ash. He wore an old, worn cloak the color of drying blood, and strapped to his back was an enormous broadsword. How can he use that sword? Even Marcus couldn't wield such a weapon. It looks like it was made for a giant. Kat's eyes went to the stranger's face. War paint of black henna surrounded deep green eyes that sparkled under heavy grey eyebrows. His features, which might have been called handsome by some, were weathered and his nose appeared to have been broken numerous times. He had the broad chin and full lips of the Men of the South, and a mane of silvery hair fell to his shoulders, but it did not conceal his long, pointed ears. A half-elf! I've never seen any of our people look so fierce. His dark eyes smoldered, and it was then that Kat noticed that he was looking directly at her. She flinched, and stepped back behind the cart. Oren had not moved.

The half-elf came closer, easing his horse to the right, and stopped ten yards away. He dropped the reins onto the saddle horn and grinned.

"Well, I see you've got yourself a new disciple." 

"Yes, and as you can see our friendship is off to a promising start." Oren threw back his hood, and they both laughed. 

Katarina scowled. They're friends! No use hoping for rescue. "I'm not his disciple! I'm his prisoner!" The cart started again, and the stranger turned about to ride alongside it. 

"Is there any news from the South these days?" Oren set the satchel in the cart bed. His fingers moved close to his chest, weaving words in the Secret Speech of the Elves. I hear there is trouble on the coast.

"I did not come from the South." The half-elf moved his mount closer to the cart. "I've only just returned from the East and passed through Kellhollow six days ago." He made several gestures, tapped his elbow, and then made more gestures while looking all around him as he spoke. The Kellhollow has been abandoned, but the Empire does not know it. I've sent word to our friends. "I have some business to the north in Starwatch, but I turned aside to this road two days ago." I felt I would be needed.

Oren nodded. "You are well met, indeed, then. Would you ride with us a short while and camp with us tonight, or must you press on?"

"Some business is perhaps best delayed." The half-elf leaned back in the saddle. "What brings you so far south in the winter, besides finding eager disciples?"

"Dragons. I have taken to studying them more closely for some time now." Something terrible has happened. They are falling ill with a madness. We must be certain of the girl before we speak of it openly.

The half-elf raised an eyebrow. "I take it your studies have been productive." Who is she?

"Not as much as I would like. The latest specimen I was going to study died rather suddenly. The little one here could explain that part to you. Her name is Katarina." Oren's voice took on a formal tone. "She is a Dragonslayer." He tapped his fingers against his thumbs. She has the Pelethite gift. See what you make of it. He extended one of Katarina's short swords to his friend. "She had two of these. Do you recognize their workmanship?"