From alt.pub.dragons-inn Sat Mar 11 01:07:30 1995 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:8190 Path: netcom.com!ix.netcom.com!howland.reston.ans.net!torn!newshost.uwo.ca!ts6-3.slip.uwo.ca!mdevries From: mdevries@julian.uwo.ca Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [WAYFARERS] In trouble again... Date: Wed, 8 Mar 1995 22:35:40 LOCAL Organization: ITS, UWO Lines: 130 Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Host: ts6-3.slip.uwo.ca X-Authenticated: mdevries@ts6-3.slip.uwo.ca X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B final beta #4] Authors: E. Laycock Sleeaeth (E.A.Laycock@sheffield.ac.uk) M. DeVries Tyloril (mdevries@julian.uwo.ca) S. Vanhorn Jason (svanhorn@xmission.com) At that moment, Jason stepped into the barn, his face hard-set with a twinge of anger. "Pack up," he started in a firm voice. "We need to leave as soon as possible. This land is plagued with animals." Seeing their questioning faces he raised a hand. "No, I haven't seen any of them, but I've seen their work." Reaching back into a pack slung over his shoulders, Jason pulled a tattered brown book, the corners peeling and the leather cracked. "This is from the oddity shop." His voice choked. "The flaming beasts. . .killed my friend too and this was. . .all I could take." Jason handed the book to Tyloril, their eyes locked. "Inside I think you might find the answers to your questions. It's untitled, but my. . .friend has mentioned the book several times to me." Jason stepped back as Tyloril examined the book in his hands. "We must go. The beasts could come here any moment and the authorities could blame us for what has happened here. Where we go, I don't care. Just somewhere. I place my service in your hands." With that, Jason slung his pack back around his shoulder and walked out of the barn to watch while the two packed. Tyloril took the book and slipped it into his pack his face impassive as forced himself to clear the last of his dream from his head. He had experience it often enough, but it never relented in its intensity, as s trong as the day when the dream had been a reality. Despite the other emotions he was feeling Tyloril was still surprised at Jason's offer. This man whom he had just met was offering his services, apparently unconditionally, but to what gain? And why did he fear the authorities? Surely while such atrocities were uncommon, they were not unheard of. Tyloril found his companions becoming more interesting by the moment. "I guess the bacon will have to wait," he said to Sleeaeth with a shrug. "Trolls are not usually the sort to stay in one area," he continued as he pulled his cloak from where Sleeaeth had hung it and wrapped it around his shoulders. For a while they continued in silence, Sleeaeth and Tyloril finally leading the horses from the barn. "I think we should continue north," Tyloril said after a moment. "If we find trouble, I have...friends with whom we may seek sanctuary. Until I have a chance to examine the book, I cannot say what course I intend to follow next, but if you have her suggestions I am open to them now." While he waited for an answer, Tyloril took a moment to examine Sleeaeth. She had seemed nervous ever since he had awoken. Maybe it was due to seeing the bies of the family, but he could not help but feel there was something more. Sleeaeth sighed, "in trouble again!" she mutters under her breath! "All I wanted was something to keep me occupied for a few weeks or so, and now this!" "Still," she mused quietly, "it'll be something to tell the others when I get back, and better than rotting alone in that inn while they're out enjoying themselves." She takes only a few moments to pack, swinging her saddle and harness onto her horse with the ease of someone who has spent all her life leaving swiftly. she tipped the cold, dry bacon off the small griddle-pan, slung the pan on the outside of her pack and hungrily bolted the bacon fragments. She flipped the clean shirt off the line and tied it around her waist. "Let's go, north sounds fine to me, I have nothing else planned." She turned to the elf wondering why he was looking at her with such a studying expression. "You said you know about trolls, can you tell me anything about them , I know nothing of them, except that they smell, and eat, it appears, almost anything." Tyloril paused a moment before answering. "Trolls are smart, you must never forget that. They look like beasts, usually about seven feet, hairy...if you see one, you'll not soon forget it. It's better to try to ki them at a distance. Their long arms make it nearly impossible to get in ose enough to do any damage. But they are as smart as us, although they think ly of killing. They range in tribes, fighting amongst themselves usually eping their numbers down. I would not like to think what might happen if they ined together." As the three left the barn, Sleeaeth and Tyloril on horse and Jason on foot, they began at a slow walk, wanting to give the horses a chance to wake up. They reached the road and headed north, as Tyloril had decided; South was the town and perhaps more beasts. North could bring promise. At least Tyloril had friends there. For a while Jason simply scanned the countryside, observing the beauty of nature more than spotting trolls or any strangers. Some fields of corn spread out on one side while a meadow with cattle grazing sat on the other. Finally, Jason spoke. "Friends, there are a few things I haven't told you. . .about myself. Not to say I'm not really who I am but in truth. . .argh!" Frustrated, Jason shut his mouth and walked for a minute or so. "What I'm meaning to say," he continued, "is that my name is not Jason." He held a hand up, signaling for them not to speak. "No, don't ask questions. My name is Resylus Taungo. I tell you this because you are my friends. . ." He paused. "No one has ever been my friend." Sleeaeth glanced questioning to Tyloril who shruged his shoulders, a confused look on his face. Sleeaeth was the first to speak. "Jas. . .Resylus, why are we your friends? We just barely met you and. . ." "Because, Sleeaeth, you are the only good folk I've known. You aren't trouble makers." Slowly his head tilted down to watch his own feet. "I am not a good person. I've had too much in my history that has. . . bothered me. I want to set it right. I am in your service." Sleeaeth nodded as if she understood but Tyloril shook his head, not comprehending nor having the stomach to break the silence. "Let us forget what I have said. But--please, call me Resylus. It's tough to turn when someone calls you something other than your real name. Resylus. That will do." "All right, Resylus," Sleeaeth said softly. "We accept you. You are our friends." Tyloril nodded, playing with his horse's reins. "Well then," Resylus said after a minute. "Shall we run? Hopefully we can reach the next town by the afternoon." With that, Resylus started running down the road, a trail of dust behind. Sleeaeth gave Tyloril a helpless look and he just shrugged back as they nudged their horses into a trot. The farm was soon left far behind them but the companions continued to look around warily. Tyloril had his bow strung and resting easily in front of him, an arrow ready to fly. It was not until midafternoon that the trouble started. Shadows, loping along beside them, just out of sight behind the cover of trees. "I count about fifteen," Tyloril said softly, Sleeaeth and Resylus nodding. "That's too many. Five to one." The elf shook his head. "I think we'll have to make a break for it. If we get seperated, their is a river, about a mile to the east. Follow it south until it forks. Wait there." Tyloril cast another worried glace over his shoulder, his hand tightening on his bow. ___________________________ And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and rust on his mail: And the tents were all silent--the banners alone-- The lances unlifted--the trumpet unblown. Lord Byron