The young priest of Naulda softly sang a hymn to his goddess as he walked the narrow path to the well. 'Ten,' he said cheerfully to his small dog. 'Another ten, then I'll have checked a hundred springs. One hundred wellsprings, all in prime condition! The Father Superior can be satisfied; Naulda's works are in good order.' The terrier barked. She was fine, as long as she was outside with her master.
When he reached the lake, he saw to his surprise that he was not alone. A small man in a brown cloak was bending over to drink Naulda's crystal clear waters from his cupped hands.
'Good day,' the priest said cheerfully. 'May the gifts of my Lady strengthen you.'
'Thank you, Father,' the little man said. His voice sounded as hoarse and creaky as a rusty hinge.
'See how beautiful it is here.' The young priest looked around at the fresh greenery and the colorful fragility of the wildflowers.
'Are you traveling?' the man said and the priest nodded.
'My dog and I are from our temple in Leudra City. I'm inspecting Naulda's springs along the King's Road for cleanliness. Rewarding work! Each healthy well can save a life and that's a pleasant thought.'
'But lonely work, I'd say.'
The priest nodded. 'I'm very much on my own. I don't speak to many people, except for chance meetings like this. I sleep out in the open and, I only go to a temple when my supplies run out. But I'm content with that; my needs are few.'
'Do you have far to go?'
'I'm almost done,' the priest laughed. 'After this spring another nine, and then I'll have visited a hundred sources of clear, blessed water.'
'A hundred springs! You're a stayer.' Vasthul put his hand on the shoulder of the unsuspecting cleric and sent a lethal dose of energy into his body. With a shudder and a sigh, his victim slumped to the ground. The little terrier ran over to her master, and whined softly. Vasthul pointed and with a soft yelp, the animal collapsed.
A violent cough seized the little man. Then the terrible cramps hit him and he clutched his stomach with both hands. Panting and with tears streaming down his face, he waited until the pain had subsided. When he regained control, he quickly stripped the blue robe from the priest's body. His hands went through the pockets, but all he found were a few coppers and a document assigning Father Jenden, of the temple in Leudra City, to the inspection of all Naulda's springs along the King's Road to Kyrran.
With a sense of triumph, he rolled the blue robe up in his backpack. Dressed in that, they'd allow him, the simple River Priest, portal transportation to Rhidaun-Lorn. While he turned to leave he thought of something. Smiling, he kicked the dead priest into the spring. 'Clean water, eh?' he murmured. 'Enjoy it!'
The adept serving Naulda's temple portal in Kyrran was only too happy to port Father Jenden, servant of the River Goddess in Leudra City to the capital. He wished the good father rapid recovery from the nasty skin irritation that forced him to hide half his face in bandages and flashed back, unaware of the death that had been so close to him. Vasthul would have preferred to send the youngster to the spirit world, but his wits said no and he stayed his hand.
In an alley, he swapped the blue priestly robe for his own brown one and hid it under a pile of garbage. Shivering and still miserable, he began looking for a place to hide during the coming days.
The journey through the wild lands between Nadrilland and the provincial duchy of Halendaun was long and monotonous. Ghyll's irritation grew by the hour and was only with difficulty suppressed. The restlessness that had troubled him since their first, dream-plagued night at Gromarthen grew and became almost compulsive. He had to reach Rhidaun-Lorn, and as soon as possible. The fact that the journey took so much time frustrated him immensely. Eventually it took a bear to release him from his black mood.
The bear, a shabby brown beast with more hunger than brains, crossed their paths at the same moment that Ghyll was boiling with fury over some clumsy remark of Damion's. Ghyll spurred Ulanth a little harder than usual. The big warhorse lunged forward and within seconds, Ghyll was lengths away from the rest. With a challenging roar, the bear came out of the bushes and blocked the road for rider and steed. The beast rose on its hind legs and opened wide his drooling mouth. Suddenly Ghyll saw red. He pulled Childegard from the sheath on his back and the sword's joyous hum filled his ears.
'Hallali,' he shouted, in unconscious imitation of Childegard's battle cry, and threw himself into the threatening bear.
His Companions rushed forward to assist him, but Olle looked at the situation. 'Wait!'
The others reined in their horses and looked at him in surprise.
'Leave him be for a moment,' Olle said with a crooked smile. 'That bear's hardly a match for both him and Childegard, and he needs to lose some aggression.'
Olle was right. The bear stood no chance against the combination of Ghyll's sword arm, Childegard's magical martial arts, and Ulanth's sharp hooves, and soon the fight was over.
As Ghyll rode back, his foster brother sat waiting for him, his arms crossed.
'Feeling better now?'
Ghyll looked over his shoulder at the bear and then back at Olle, and blushed. 'I think so.' He shook his head remorsefully. 'Tilia! I've been disagreeable the last few days. Damion, I'm sorry, I had no reason to be angry with you.'
His friend grinned. 'No matter, that happens to all of us.'
'What makes you so cross?' Uwella said.
'I feel like I am driven. I need to go to Rhidaun-Lorn, as soon as possible, and it's all going so slow.'
'If the gods want us to go faster,' Uwella said acidly, 'they'd better help us a little, instead of pushing you.'
In one way or another, the wikke seemed to have struck the right chord, and from that moment, the journey became less tense.
Soon, they were riding through the foothills of the Margautainen, the high hills that formed the border with Rockath. It was empty land without villages or temples until they crossed the border with Halendaun and reached the town of Polidraut. Here they found a portal temple and with a sigh of relief, they rushed inside.
The adept of Mainal who cared for the portal was a young, restless fellow. 'Yes, I've heard that there were mana failures,' he said with a grimace. 'Not here, bless the gods; the mana flow from my temple is as it should be. I rarely get travelers, of course. Polidraut is way beyond the end of the inhabited world. That's what you get,' the adept confessed in a burst of honesty, 'if you're expelled from school once too often. I hope it won't last much longer. It's been a whole year now and I'm going crazy with boredom.'
At that point, everyone looked involuntarily at Bo, who had the grace to blush. Hastily, he led them into the portal and seconds later, they were at Rhidaun-Lorn, inside Mainal's temple. The portal was immense and Ghyll imagined how Rhidaunan armies marched from here to conquer neighboring countries.
Bo shook his head. 'No, in those days there weren't any portals. No airships, either; I think those armies traveled by shank's ponies.'
Torril looked nonplussed. 'What ponies?'
'Shank's ponies.' Olle grinned at him. 'They walked, boy.'
The young Nhael huffed. 'Why don't you say so? You with your funny words.'
Before they could leave, a rotund cleric, his hands fluttering in agitation, stormed towards them, with several burly subordinates on his heels. 'What is this? What is that wikke doing in Mainal's House? How dare you, Adept? How dare you to bring that... renegade here?' The man's face had grown purple and he spluttered with rage. Bo tried to say something, but the priest gave him no chance.
Ghyll listened in rising anger to the man's accusations. 'Enough!' Unconsciously he put all his authority in his voice. 'Father, you forget yourself. I would remind you that the Gray Temple is a recognized Order and that Arikal's cult is officially admitted. That makes your words at the very least inappropriate and in outright contradiction to the doctrine. I have to ask you to stop blocking our way or else I will take this up with High Mage Taindragon.'
Halfway through Ghyll's eruption, the lower temple servants had disappeared; the young nobleman's ire promised more problems than their pompous superior was worth. The latter stood with a face as red as his robe, while his smug anger leaked from him. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came.
'What is your name?' Ghyll snapped.
The stout priest broke. With a stammered apology and a hasty bow, he fled.
As the door closed behind him, Uwella turned to Ghyll with tears of anger in her eyes. 'Thank you.'
Damion's face was livid. 'Do you get much of that nonsense?'
Uwella snorted, or perhaps it was a sob, they couldn't tell. 'Sometimes,' she said. 'Usually it's from smug bastards like that priest. Mean people. It's when someone says so who should've known better, that it hurts. But that doesn't happen much.' She sniffed again. 'Well, weren't we going to do something?'
At the western side of the market was an inn, an impressive building, of whitewashed stone and dark-green woodwork, with a scrolled sign that proudly proclaimed The Crown of Rhidauna. Damion hired a noble apartment, now was not the time to be frugal. The innkeeper was a pompous individual more like a nobleman than any nobleman Ghyll had ever met. He gave them a discreet look and offered the assistance of servants to spruce up their town attire and to help with Uwella's hair. The wikke refused the latter. Nobody who wasn't trained in it could handle the eccentric style she preferred. Oddly enough, she insisted on a haircut for Damion.
'And a shave,' she said, with a critical eye on the young man's face. 'That downy hair on your chin is silly; off with it!'
Ghyll nodded to their host. 'Send us a barber; all of us could do with a trim. But first, a bath.'
Hours later Uwella reappeared, very much the Valvodjara of Vavaun. She was very satisfied with her appearance and a bit with that of her male companions.
'Hmm, you're not that bad-looking without all those wild tresses and all the stubble. You looked like Drakenlander.' Then she colored. 'Oops, sorry, Torril. That wasn't very nice of me.'
'Why? It's true, isn't it? We Nhael have no barbers. We like our hair long, and we cut it ourselves. Long hair is nice and warm in winter. For the rest of the year too. If I went home looking like this, they'd all die laughing.'
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