Iasmin wanted to tell him she didn't, but couldn't.
"Why..." No, she still couldn't. "Why do you wear that robe?"
"T'is part of the penance Farther Marla has assigned. I shall wear only a plain, un-dyed robe, drink only water and broths, and eat only bread," Agravaine explained.
"And that absolves your sin?" Iasmin could believe that not - maybe anger was better saved for the lenient priest.
"Nay. That's just the beginning, along with standing vigil overnights over both Iaime and Garth, until burial. Both Marla and King Rokk have further penance for me in store, I have no doubt."
"And much deserved it is." She understood the nature of the mistake, but couldn't forgive it.
"Aye." He met her eyes for the first time. "What... What would you have me do, my lady?"
"I..." The honesty, pain and remorse in his gaze caught her off-guard. She hadn't expected that - a remorseless northerner who knew no better, yes - even a careless ruffian - but not that.
"I don't know. I hadn't thought much on it." She turned away.
"If you think of anything. Please. I'll do anything."
Would you take your life, if I asked for it? she thought. Remembering those eyes, now searing into her mind, she realized he probably would.
His torment is as deep as mine. I must speak carefully around him... Iaime would not wish him ill, would he?
They walked in silence to the great hall. She had never before seen the entire company of knights seated around the table, but could easily picture Iaime among them.
Walking around the edge, she greeted the many knights she and her brother had been training for these past months, knights who she now must continue to train - alone.
Most chairs had names calligraphed onto their backs. She stopped short, seeing one marked "Iaime."
"The seat shall remain vacant until Iaime is reborn and joins us once more, through the eternal cycle of life, death and re-birth," Mysa explained. "Rokk has granted this at my request."
"Any who sit there do so at great peril," Rokk said. "I have ordered the death of any who do."
"And Garth's seat?" Iasmin asked, seeing it, too was empty.
"Garth may rejoin us yet," she said, trying not to smile so much it seemed like a gloat. "Mordru has conjured magicks so that if Garth's spirit wishes, he may remain rooted here until Yule, and his body will not waste away."
"Thus we have time to break Zaryan's curse," Rokk interjected.
"Please God that it should be so," Iasmin said.
Seeing Querl come in, she asked, "Was it not the Greek lad who devised the plan to save Garth?"
"It was," the king replied.
"And he found that the Cauldron would save the lives of Dyrk, Laurel and Lu," she said. "I would present a gift to him, once the feast is under way."
"Aye," Rokk agreed. "There will be plenty of commendations to be made this eve."
[ December 26, 2005, 06:20 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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posted
Notes 76-87: 76: I couldn't resist. Once the "try/do" line came up, I remembered Aven's original Jedi trick, and decided to apply it here, too. 77: Gertus' Hill comes from an actual London Tube stop: Gants Hill, which on a too-small brochure map I misread as Gerts Hill. I have no idea what the real hill - if there is one- is like, or how old the name was, so I just made it up as I pleased. The name "Notting Hill" is less than 200 years old, so I easily opted out of using it. Besides, Gants was more or less right where I wanted it - northeast of Londinium. And I was finally dying to use the Miss Terious line! 78: I'm liking James more than I ever liked Gim, although WaK are off to a good start. 79: At last! drawing together everyone on the hill! I honestly wasn't certain if Rokk knew it was Lu all along until I got here. Yes, that was Lu after the faerie queen adventure, and in the Perilous Forest story. Go back, and you'll see a lack of male pronouns for the mystery knight. 80: I saw Nura seeing much of the goings-on from the outset (but not the outcome of the hill, of course); what i didn't know was how much would be told in the preceding chapters. 81: I wasn't happy with this one. Fast readers may have noticed the various editing jobs I did after the fact, before commencing #82. Normally, chapters flow out as-is. It also occurred to me after #77 that Imra 'influenced' Dyrk. 82: In contrast, I much liked this one - especially delaying telling who got killed - Lu or Garth. I really couldn't find out how ancients treated neck injuries (presumably they mostly resulted in death, one way or the other), so I let the Druids play it safe, albeit probably too modernish. So sue me. 83: Originally, I had Querl deduce the poison first. But that can wait - especially until the spy story is resolved. 84: It couldn't be too simple, could it? Or else you could casually duel a villain one-handed, sipping from the cauldron and never taking any serious injury. 85: da Grail. yep. Pre-Christian, Pre-Arthurian Celtic legends are full of magical healing chalices and cauldrons (that usually provide sustenance, too), while earliest Grail legends don't describe its form as a chalice. Thus, I see it as a co-option of Celtic lore, especially as modern Grail theorists describe the Grail as a bloodline of Christ, not a relic. 86: Poor Mysa! It all comes back to roost, one way or another... 87: That's not Gaelic, just an attempt to show a thick accent. Try to sound out the words aloud if you can't make them out; you'll probably get the idea. A Fir Darrig (sometimes a Far Darrig) is a type of Irish faerie, but he fit here. Brownie points for seeing his LSH connection! (Hint: remember, Tenzil fled!)
[ December 26, 2005, 06:24 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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"In safe-keeping," Jonah answered for him. "Before you start accusations, Reep, come this way."
The three entered the great hall. Rokk called out in greeting, and started to ask about Tenzil, who'd been missing since afternoon.
"My king, my fellows, I beg thy silence. All will be explained," he said.
With the unseen Tinya, the three began peering around the room, with Reep peering as well, trying to determine what they were watching.
"There!" Tenzil whispered to Jonah.
The knight saw it, and charged up to the wall, yanking on a thin wisp of vine protruding from a corner.
"Yaaaaaaaggghhhh!" screamed the vine, shifting back into a faerie form.
"That's the spy?" Tenzil asked. "Fantastic!"
"What! The spy, but how-" Reep awkwardly said, still trying to piece together what was transpiring.
"Balan! Balin! Your assistance, please!" called Jonah.
The two knights approached, while he continued speaking. "This, my friends, is our spy - a Lesidhe. A sprite that disguises itself as foliage, plant-form. Good knights? This fellow needs to be held in nice, secure solid iron."
Balan held the faerie as it shrieked loudly, and at such pitch that all the gatherants in the hall had to cover their ears.
"Speak, faerie! Who is your contact? Whom do you spill our secrets to?" Jonah demanded.
It continued shrieking. "Cry as long as you would. You torment ends not until you speak," the knight said.
"..." The creature knew it was beat. "A woman, a deposed queen from another land. I met her not, but when she comes near to Londinium, we spoke over distance, without words."
Mekt gave Rokk a sharp look, and Rokk and Imra looked at each other.
Just how prevalent is your type of gift? Rokk asked.
Not very. Other than Aven, and myself I have only heard of two others. Mayhap she is Eva, the Arian queen of Alemannia.
Aye. Alemannia fell four years ago to Clovis, and this matches Mekt's tale, Rokk nodded.
"What shall we do with it?" Jonah asked.
"Saihlough?" Rokk deferred to the resident expert.
"A Lesidhe? Hmmm.... Is it cut off his wings? ...Heart? ...Eye?... No! It's his tail!" the pixie declared.
"NOOOOOOO!" the Lesidhe began shrieking again.
Ignoring it, Saihlough continued. "Without it's tail, it has to serve the tail's captor. But keep it where it can't be found," Saihlough warned. "It will try anything to find it and flee."
With the brothers holding the faerie firm, Jonah took his hunting knife and cut the tail. The shrieking turned to whimpering, as Jonah commanded its wail to end.
"I think that's what you do. Else, you've made it your mortal enemy," Saihlough said matter-of-factly. Seeing Jonah's expression, she giggled. "Surely you see that I jested!"
Jonah and Reep found an iron box to keep the faerie ensnare for the night, ordering it not to escape, and provided false information for it to feed its contact.
"Do you think it will obey?" Jonah asked, on the way back to the hall.
"It has to. But we must watch our commands. It will try to twist our words to its favour," Reep answered.
Returning to the hall, the knights were ribbing Tenzil for his flight.
Feel lucky that Tinya saw through this plot, Jonah thought. Say... Where has she gone?
[ December 26, 2005, 06:25 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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quote:Originally posted by Abin Quank: Sean, this gets better with each chapter you add! I'm especially struck with the deft blending of Arthurian Legend with LSH Story Lines.
BRAVO!
I tried to resist going all Harbi on you this time But...
MORE, MORE, MORE!
Sorry, couldn't help myself!
Harbi has that effect, doen't she?
Thanks again, my friend!
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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In accordance with Rokk's wish, Beren consulted the auguries, learning that to bring out the Cauldron's true glory, it would take the work of priestesses.
Mysa, in turn, performed her own auguries, mapping out the ritual to come. She enlisted her old friend Jeka.
"Should there not be three?" asked Jeka. "Surely that is a more sacred number. Let us fetch Imra-"
"-Nay," said Mysa. "If there are to be three, the Lady will provide."
With Druids standing in vigil in the hall outside, they began. Purifying and blessing themselves, they did likewise for their workspace, creating a sacred space that transcended the waking world.
And they invited the goddess in.
"Arianhrod! Ceridwen! Cailleach! Maiden, Mother and Crone! Hear us! Send us the Maiden of the Cauldron, that she may do your blessings!"
And out of the ether floated a young woman with thick raven hair.
Seeing them see her, tears of joy welled out from the maiden's eyes. They parted hands to join with her, making a trio.
"I have held no human hand for more than a year," the maiden said. "Bless you, Mysa, Jeka, whatever it is that you do."
"Bless you, my Lady," Mysa smiled. "Let us continue."
The ritual went forward, and the maiden felt herself change, as the Maiden of the Cauldron was further blessed and invoked.
No longer sure where she ended and Arianhrod began, she reached for the Cauldron. Although Mysa had yet to pour the purified water, it was full!
She drank, quivering at the sensations, tasting tastes she barely recalled anymore: honey, apples, wine, berries, cheese, smoked meats, nectars...
She felt her heart pump, her blood flow... she truly felt as goddess, with no blemish or imperfection... she could taste this nectar forever....
No she couldn't. Overflowing was the warmth and love she felt, and had to share it - first with her sisters.
She raised the Cauldron to their lips, saying, "I thee bless. May you be nourished," first to Mysa, then to Jeka.
She could not stop there.
Beren and his men, out in the hall were next.
"My Lady," Beren managed, barely able to muster the words.
The Maiden drifted down the hall, giving communion to two passing guards en route to the great hall. The two stood near-paralyzed as she departed.
Her entry brought the revelry to a halt: all were transfixed, and the light of torches seemed to be replaced with a bright, soft moonlight.
She offered sips to all: servant, knight, maiden or noble, blessing them all as she gave them the Gift. It amazed her non-goddess self that each saw her as something different.
"Mother," Carolus greeted her.
"Isis," welcomed Querl.
"Brigid," said Laoraighll.
"Iasmin," Agravaine called her.
"Mary," said Luornu, making the sign of the cross.
"Mysa," said Mordru.
"Mother, you truly are as beautiful as I remember," said Rokk.
"Kiwa," said Imra.
Only Jonah, who she saved for last, saw her as she saw herself. "Tinya, my love," he wept, holding her hands rather than drinking.
"My love, you must drink, and we will be together at midwinter," she said, not knowing why, but knowing the words were true.
He kissed instead her lips, tasting the nectars from her own mouth.
And in a flash of light she was gone.
[ December 26, 2005, 06:27 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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Sean, you continue to delight us with your tale, it's excellent!
Chuck has been saying it for me but just in case you didn't guess - more, more, more!
Bxx
-------------------- "Tempus Fugitive" the final part of the Adventures of Dream Boy series, set in the Three-Boot Universe. Read it only in the Bits o' Legionnaire Business Forum.
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"That it was." Rokk, like most of his court, were still half-awed by the visitation they'd experienced. No doubt the Cauldron/Grail argument will again erupt in the morning, but-
Tomorrow arrives not til morning, Imra smiled at him.
"There's no idle thinking around you, is there?"
"Sorry. I didn't mean it... I just feel so good, I wanted to reach out to you-"
"-There's a better way to reach a young man's heart," he smiled, drawing close to her.
"I'll bet there is," she smiled, welcoming him.
They shared a warm, passionate kiss, and for the first time Rokk felt that everything was perfect: his court, kingdom and marriage...
...Rokk became fully awake in a split second, as if he'd been thrown into an icy lake.
He was still wrapped around Imra, who was sound asleep. He tried nuzzling up again beside her, pretending he was tired...
It wasn't working.
Sigh.
He straightened out, his left arm still beneath his wife. The moonlight streaming through the window is beautiful. Maybe my bride would like to share it with me?
He leaned close to her again. She was muttering in her sleep.
"Mmm glghdyghr hrrrwffmm... Garth."
Sigh.
He felt no ill will for his best friend, but coming from Imra after all they'd just shared truly hurt.
Carefully, trying not to wake her, he slowly pulled his left arm free, pausing every time Imra's pattern of sleep changed. It took the better part of half an hour.
Quietly, he slipped to his wardrobe room, and donned a simple tunic and leggings with warm boots and robe.
The palace was all quiet. Everyone no doubt was wrapped up warmly, savouring the magick of the evening.
Yet descending the stairs, he dwelled on Mordru's words. "You seek to restore life to the man who may cost you your bride? Your very kingdom?"
"Aye," he'd told him. ""I rule by trusting those I love, those who would stand by me."
"Then you're a fool," Mordru told him.
"A fool!" The memory echoed still, now interlaced with the passions he and his bride shared only hours before - and shattered by the realities that her heart let slip.
(Sigh.)
He stood at the balcony over the entry hall. How many mornings he'd come up here to watch the palace guards drill! He needed that, he told himself, to remember each day that he awoke not in Sir Brandius' villa, that the past eight months was no trifling dream.
Eight months ago, his sole duties were to tend the sheep, help with harvest, and mend fences. Some days he'd give it all up for such simplicity...
"What do you see?"
Iasmin startled him.
"The way people move so silently in these halls, it's not a wonder we've had a score of spies," he smiled, looking down at her. "Hold, I shall meet you there."
"I think that one gets so used to the echoes of the smallest sounds, that it gets hard to tell who is close, and who is far," she said, as he descended the stairs. "This palace must have been built from a soft stone indeed."
"This was Ambrosius' palace. When I build my palace, it shall be from harder stone, then. I like not how easily everyone sneaks up on me here."
"You already plan a palace?"
"Aye. Probably at Camulodunum, where I can be closest to the enemy."
"You... You weren't planning your palace just then, were you?" Iasmin saw in Rokk a similar look as when Iaime would pine for Morroc.
"No. I was thinking about, well..."
"Where you grew up?"
"Aye."
"When we first came ashore at Exeter, I said to Iaime, 'Why have we left the warmth and sun for this rainy, cold, damp place?' But in truth, now, despite all that's happened. This[i] is where I belong. I [i]feel it. We can still remember fondly whence we came from, but I can only bear out this time by looking forward," her voice started to quiver. "It isn't within me to reflect too much just yet."
Rokk held her.
"You are a brave, strong woman. Iaime was and no doubt is quite proud of you."
They held each other in silence for a time.
"My king? W-Where I come from, a king has... certain liberties beyond his marriage vows," her hold on him moved lower. "I'd be honored if you..." Her questioning smile let him finish the sentence for her.
He smiled. Recalling how Imra's calling Garth's name, so soon after their own endeavors, had hurt him, and he was very tempted to find solace with Iasmin.
He resisted not as she put her lips to his.
"You're a fool!" Mordru’s words came back to him - as did his own. "I rule by trusting those I love, those who would stand by me."
I cannot be the first to dishonour our vows, especially from a woman who reads my thoughts.
Sigh.
"I-I am truly sorry, Iasmin. I cannot do this. If my conscience and face give me away not, then-"
"-Queen Guinevere's gift of seeing one's bare soul will betray you. I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"
He grabbed her hand. "If I had one indication she has been untrue, I would-"
"-I know," she smiled bitterly. Looking him in the eyes once more, she kissed him again, then quietly departed, leaving him alone in the vast hall.
[ December 26, 2005, 06:29 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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"But where did she go? Obviously she took the cauldron with her," Reep said.
"Who was she?" asked L'ile. "She reminded me of a woman I knew long ago named Myla - but she'd long been dead."
"The woman I saw looked like our mother," Balin said.
"Nay! It was the virgin Mary holding the Grail!" Balan contradicted.
Lu shook her head annoyed. If I wanted to hear that, I'd have brought Luornu with me.
Jonah was angered. "Did any of you talk to her? NO! I did. I tell you, it was Tinya!"
The knights all paused, seeing no solution at hand.
"We'll not find out 'til we find her," said Rokk.
"My men tell me reports of 'miracles' similar to ours heading west, out of the city, and out along the western road," Reep said.
"Then we must ride-"
"-Calm down, Jonah!" Rokk shouted, surprising himself, his cousin and the others.
"No one goes charging off until we know what we're doing. Whether it was Tinya or some magicks that made us see what we wished. If she saw a horde of us riding after her, she's stay out of our sight, wouldn't she?"
The knights nodded.
"Reep and L'ile are in charge of sorting through reports. They may ask one or all of us to ride and gather information, but no one does so without their say-so. Understand?"
Again, they nodded.
"Now, Regardless of who it was -or wasn't- does anyone have any useful information to offer?"
"My king?" Jonah hesitantly spoke up. "Tinya told me she'd see me again at midwinter, and I've not seen her since around the palace. I-I usually can feel her nearby."
Dyrk rolled his eyes. He'd mostly accepted Tinya's existence, recalling instances where Jonah, Saihlough and Guinevere spontaneously had the same reactions to the ghost, but Jonah's word still carried little reassurance.
"Midwinter. Yule. When Mordru's spells to preserve Garth come to an end," Rokk noted. "Does she mean to be back to heal Garth? Nay, we can't delay on your account. I shall leave to see the Lady of the Lake."
"My sire! She's a sorceress!" Balan blurted, earning him a dire look from Rokk.
"She is my benefactor, friend and ally," the king said, with a ferocious rage building. "If you're so pious, Balan, look me in the eye and tell me you took no unchristian pleasure in tormenting the Lesidhe."
It was an abomination before God, just as Saihlough is, he wanted to say, but held his tongue. Surely the evils of women-kind are afflicting our king's heart.
Rokk continued. "I shall ride to Glastonbury with James, and hopefully we shall return with both Thom and good news."
He looked around. "I would see Querl before I leave. Has anyone seen him?"
"He left for Avalon with Beren and Tenzil this very morn. Had I known, you could have joined them," L'ile said.
"Perchance we shall meet them on the road," James said.
"Nay. They took the Path of Isis, and are no doubt already halfway to Avalon," L'ile said.
"Is there any other here who can navigate this path of which I have heard?" Rokk asked. "It would be nice to save three days' ride."
"That has been in Londinium of late, only Beren, that I know of," L'ile somberly answered, thinking of Aven's sacrifice.
"What about Mordru?"
"Mordru is... not welcome in Avalon. None have taught him the Path, I have been told."
L’ile did not say Mordru knew not the path, Reep noted. Yet if he did, has he not used it?[/i]
[ December 26, 2005, 06:30 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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"It is good to be here," said Nura, stepping off the barge. "I wish only that we could have come sooner."
"My lady," greeted Marcus.
"Ah! Good duke. Welcome."
"King Marcus, my lady," he corrected, smiling politely.
"I realized not that you had also wed Queen Mysa," laughed Kiwa, leading them to the feasting hall.
"My elder sister renounced her claims to Cornwall," Nura told the priestess.
"You are Elaine?" Kiwa asked.
"That was my father, Gorlois' name for me, yes. I was raised in Eiru, where they called me Nuira, or Nura, which I have come to prefer."
Thom ran out, greeting them.
"My boy! Should you be up and about? Why, the word we received said your fevers-"
"-Were worsening, it's true. But we have had a miraculous few days, here and in Londinium," he laughed. "Remember Laoraighll's 'Cauldron of the Gods?' Well-"
"-The Cauldron's magicks were released? Oh, Thom! That is wondrous news!" Nura hugged him without thinking. After a momentary euphoria, they parted, receiving a cool stare from Marcus.
A man and a woman followed Thom's route out of the hall. Querl and Tenzil strolled behind.
"D--King Marcus and... Queen Nura of Cornwall," Kiwa said, "May I present Lady Tinya of Eboracum and..."
"Sentanta, son of Kell," said the man, with a thick Ulster accent.
"Dia daoibh, MacKell," greeted Nura.
"Dia daoibh," he returned the greeting.
Greetings continued, as the group returned inside - even in Avalon, November weather was not the most sociable. Kiwa had become strangely silent, occasionally stealing glances at Nura.
"I am hoping to see this fellow join Rokk's court," Querl said. "He's an impressive young knight."
"From whence in Eiru do you come?" asked Marcus.
"Emain Macha," he answered. "In Ulster."
"I don't believe I know the town," Marcus said, turning to his wife. "Do you?"
"No... but Ulster's capital of centuries ago had the same name," Nura said. "Back in the days of Craebh Ruadh, the knights of the Red Branch!"
The knight laughed. "That is true, the old fort is gone. Yet my homestead nearby remains."
"Your smile reminds me of a warrior-maiden, also of Ulster. Is she your kin?" Nura asked.
"T’is possible. I have so much family, I lose track. You refer to Laoraighll? We are... probably kin."
Marcus, meanwhile, was drawn to his companion. "Tinya of Eboracum? Why, you must be the daughter of Winifred!"
"Yes, I must," she said bitterly. "Pray tell me, your highness. If Queen Nura is Mysa's sister, then is she not King Rokk's sister also?"
"Nay. Despite the fairy-tale of Uther Ambrosius' seizing Tintagel and its lady over its master's corpse, in truth, jealous old King Gorlois had Igraine put aside once he even suspected his wife held Uther in her heart.
"He had already replaced her, with a new wife and child, by the time Uther and his armies came for Igraine - and the head of Gorlois. Fearing retribution, the child -Elaine- was sent to the safety of Eiru. She was Gorlois' second and final daughter," Marcus explained.
"And Nura's mother?" Tinya asked. Marcus shrugged, but she began to notice Kiwa's mannerisms around Cornwall's queen...
[ December 26, 2005, 06:33 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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Saihlough flew around the halls, having taken delight in playing a particularly fun prank on the guards.
Hiding keys or faking voices for patrols to flood into a cul-de-sac were fun enough, but she was particularly proud of the latest. The older guard who took his boots off to warm his feet by the fire never noticed her fill the empty boot with chilly gruel left over from evening mess.
She alternately laughed or sang a nonsensical fae-song as she flew.
Saihlough passed Agravaine, who was summoned to meet with Iasmin, or so the messenger said. His relief standing night vigil over Garth (Iaime had been buried at the Basilica before Rokk's departure) had decided to take a break himself, leaving the body unguarded in the palace chapel.
Saihlough figured this would be a good time to see if Garth's spirit had been around lately.
She flew in quietly, only to see a young woman weeping over the body, and it was neither Mysa nor the queen.
"I-I'm sorry, Garth. Why did it have to be you?"
Garth's reputation with the ladies was true! Saihlough thought, sneaking in closer.
She noticed how similar the maiden looked to Garth: similar features, accent, and even hair color!
"If only it was me instead of you. I'd do anything to have you back, my brother!" the maiden wailed.
Anything? Something about the girl touched Saihlough's heart.
Do I have enough faerie dust for this? Yes. I think I do...
"... I did wish ill on you, it is true, I see you as a truly repentant man," Iasmin said, trying not to stumble as she uttered the words she'd been practicing.
"I must do more," he said. "I fell the scales cannot be balanced so easily."
"Maybe not," she said, feeling the time and sentiment for punishment was passed. "I tell you this, if King Rokk approves....
"Besides wanting to be a great warrior in a company of knights, besides wanting to see Rokk's knights become the finest cavalry in Europa, he had another... dream. It was more daydream than goal, but," she paced uncomfortably, as if she were betraying some secret.
"He wanted to go to the Holy Lands, as a pilgrim. He wanted to help the poor, give aide to pilgrims and strangers, anonymously - with no benefit of our family's wealth," Iasmin said.
"W-Would you do this? For him?"
"It would be a great honor," he said reverently. "I pray that King Rokk agrees..."
"Agrees to what?" asked an intruder to the conversation.
Iasmin and Agravaine were stunned.
"Garth?"
[ December 26, 2005, 06:35 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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The Northman itched his chin, as if it would make the answer apparent. It didn't.
"What if we deserted?" asked the Druid.
The others gave him a questioning look.
"I mean only this. We have no desire to go to war with King Rokk, do we? Well, we either fight or we flee, and mayhap we can join Rokk's ranks, and warn him of the treachery afoot," he concluded.
"Ai Don' knoo if thit's suich a woise curse of achtion," said the Orkneyman.
"Don't be so prickling," said the Pict, jibbing while maintaining his cold, serious face. "I see no better plan"
The others laughed.
"Fuir oince we agreigh," said the Scot. He didn't look up from tending the fire.
The others grunted their agreements.
The Northman nodded, taking it all in.
"All right then, lads. Come morning, Tarik of the 100 knights will find himself short a half-dozen, then."
[ December 26, 2005, 06:36 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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