The Savage Caves - Chapter 7

The Savage Caves: Original Story by T.H. Lain
A Fan-Fiction Reimagining: Walthus Proudstump

Chapter 7

New Koratia, Current Year 575 Readying (Spring) 27, Earthday


The incline of the hill they’d been walking was killing Jozan’s thighs. They had been going for quite some time - long enough now that the blessed face of Pelor’s sun had started to fade behind the horizon and the ribbons of purple, blue, pink and orange scattered over the sky in smoky trails. The high mountains in the distance stretched beyond this. It was beautiful, he mused, lifting his foot again over a head-sized rock. If the place had been smooth and bare of trees, it would be a much easier climb. But it was not. He wiped sweat from his brow and questioned how Regdar could manage in his armor. Stoic and mostly silent, outside of grunts of effort, the warrior had pressed on step after step without complaint. Naull had talked much of the time and Jozan was happy to reply between gasps for breath but he was too tired to fully participate. The young mage seemed to have boundless energy for conversation and Jozan had to silence himself several times; he’d been on the verge of asking her to be quiet, for peace’s sake. But he hadn’t. She was young and didn’t know that he was tired, sweaty and aching from the trek along the mountain - even though to him it was exceedingly obvious. Lidda had been almost completely silent after her ordeal with the spider. Unwounded, save perhaps her pride, she’d said only a handful of words in the time since. The silence from her had been, at least initially, refreshing. But now it felt uncomfortable for him. Jozan was worried about her. She was crass and rude, to be sure.         Rare is the person with no reason for how or why they are.         He recalled a common phrase amongst the monks during his time at the cloister. He was certain it held true for Lidda. Another issue presented itself as the daylight faded. Light. The group hadn’t brought lanterns, at least not enough for all four of them. Jozan could call the power of Pelor to him and infuse an object with magically conjured light, for a short time, but that wasn’t something he could do often. The priest had not suspected they’d be traveling into the night and so did not pray for such spells from his god. He shook his head - he needed to rest. Even if it was a spider and goblin infested wood, it would do no good to continue on until he dropped from exhaustion. “R-Regdar,” he called out from the back of the group. Naull stopped, turning to the man and smiling from a higher vantage point. Her boots shifted and she lent him a hand. He was considerably more heavy, though, and so the two of them struggled to get him over another large rock. “O-oh, I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized you’d be so heavy.” “The life of a cloister priest,” Regdar said from ahead with a light chuckle. “Very amusing, Regdar. But I think I need to rest.” He was winded and looked around for a suitable place to sit. Naull nodded in response to the call for rest. “I admit, I don’t usually do this much walking. My legs are a bit tired as well. And the day is fading. Regdar, do you think it's going to be cool enough to need a fire?” The warrior nodded and came closer, Lidda following silently behind. Her face was blank and she just seemed to look out into nothing. Jozan wanted to say something but was unsure what wouldn’t get a snarky, vicious reply. The woman had something going on and he didn’t have the effort to dig. At least not right now, he thought. Once he was rested, he could risk the possible sarcasm of the sharp-tongued halfling but for now, he was too tired.         He began the slow process of doffing his armor and Regdar held his hand up. “Not yet, Jozan. There's a lip over there on the side of the mountain.” “I thought it was just a hill,” Jozan said sarcastically. Regdar shrugged. “I think it stopped being just a hill a few hours ago, don’t you?” “A lip?” Naull asked. She looked over to where the large man had pointed. “It’s a flatter surface on the hillside. It juts out slightly, see,” he pointed to it as he drew closer to her. She nodded and smiled at him. Jozan thought he saw Regdar blush slightly but it must’ve just been the twilight spilling through the trees. It cast a warm color over everything. “Okay,” Jozan said. “Let’s move to the lip, then.” He dragged himself forward from his seat and moved the dozen yards to where Regdar had indicated. As they reached it, there looked to be enough room for each of them to lay out if they wanted to. The lip extended over the side of the hill for ten feet, becoming a sheer drop off of about ten meters or so into the wood beneath it. Another lip was right above this, maybe five feet up, and created a little overhang awning structure that might protect from the wind and rain. Though there was no rain, the wind had picked up several times and blown harshly through the woods as they journeyed. This would stop that enough so the chill wouldn’t cut into them. Good, the weary priest thought. Some proper places to sit. A set of logs had been pulled into the area and there was evidence of a make-shift camp of some kind. It was long abandoned and there were scraps of animal parts, fur and sharpened wood sticks like little spears. They were about a foot long and were stained in red. The ends had been pointed once but they were dull now. Jozan couldn’t place them. And right now, he didn’t care. He doffed his scalemail, sighing in relief as the weight fell from his shoulder and he placed the armor to the side on his bedroll. He pulled his side pack out and sat atop one of the logs. Blessed Pelor, it felt so good to sit. “Oh no, please. Let me fetch the wood for the fire, Father.” Regdar said in mock deference. He earned a look from Jozan but the warrior chuckled and moved off, still within earshot of them. Naull sat, taking her boots off slowly and sighing as she did. She rubbed the bottoms of her feet. Jozan had a chance to finally look at the girl after all of this travel. She was very young, he would guess, and her features didn’t look like those of the people from here. Nor New Koratia, he suspected. “So, Naull,” he said. “We became entangled so quickly - I barely have had a chance to ask about you.” “Oh, there’s not too much to tell,” she dismissed with a smile. “I’m a traveling mage.” He looked at her belongings. “You travel light.” “Yes, well, I was headed to New Koratia after Fairbye and thought I’d gather supplies there.” “Are you making for the city for a reason?” He smiled, reaching for his pack and drawing out his prayer book. He’d made a habit of reading it before the sun went down most nights but he’d neglected it recently with the travel. He wouldn’t tonight. “It’s the largest city nearby and I thought to sell a few things, use the money to keep going. I’m not sure where, honestly. But I also heard that there’s a Tournament next year in the city, so I may just enjoy the sights until then. I’m sure there’s something to do in the city.” Jozan nodded. Lidda took a seat next to Naull and spoke. “I’m going to get the hell out of this place as soon as I can.” The first words she spoke in hours were sharp. “Yes,” the priest commented. “I can see why you’d want to.” The halfling woman stared at Jozan for a long moment, looking as if she were weighing her words. “I’m sorry,” she said finally. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh?” He replied as he set his holy text down. “Yes, okay! I’m sorry for…falling behind back there. And not helping. I’m not really much of a teamwork kind of person, you know? I don’t do well with others.” She shrugged and waved dismissively. Jozan nodded. “We often aren’t very skilled at something we’ve had little chance to practice.” The halfling woman looked at him. She looked sad, he thought, staring into his eyes. Her gentle brown eyes searched his face as she stared. Lidda said nothing and looked away. There was something in her comment about falling behind but Jozan couldn’t quite place it. The woman’s attitude made it difficult to gauge, along with travel weariness.         Regdar returned with some kindling - a considerable amount, Jozan noted - and set a fire in the middle of them, getting it started in a short time. Then he moved up onto the ledge above them and started three smaller fires; little campfires that he added much more wood to. Lidda looked like she was about to ask but the warrior spoke first. “Keep any spiders back. They probably won’t approach fires, if they’re normal animals.” “I’d say they were pretty far from normal, Regdar.” Lidda commented and she made a face at Naull. The young mage laughed. “Finally learned his proper name, Lidda?” Jozan asked her, smiling in the warmth of the firelight. She shrugged. “I guess. Hard to forget such a weird name, you know? REG-DAR.” Lidda exaggerated the man’s name, twisting her mouth into all manner of odd shapes. She shot the warrior a look and the two exchanged a small smile. Regdar shook his head. “So, not to cause issues,” she continued, standing up and stretching. “But are we seriously considering camping out here?” She looked around. The tall firs of the hill gathered close, even on the ledge, and the darkening sky was making it harder to see outside of the camp. The sky was somewhat cloudy now and it blotted out the light from the moons and stars. The evening would be dark, Jozan realized. So dark they may not see approaching goblins. Regdar nodded. “Fairbye is several hours march backwards, which you’d think would be easier - downhill. But it isn’t.” “No, I didn’t think it would be.” Jozan commented, rubbing his lower back and shoulders. They ached. All this physical activity made him wish he’d been more open to volunteering to leave the cloister on travel when it presented himself. He pushed the thought of the place away - too many sour memories. “So we stay here.” Lidda said with a resigned sigh. “I really don’t want to get eaten by a spider.” Naull placed her thin hand on the smaller woman’s shoulder. She gave her a knowing smile. “We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. Anyway, if they get you then they’d get us. And I have no interest in exploring spiders that close up.” She chuckled and so did Lidda. “Thanks,” the halfling continued. “For saving me, back there.” She looked at Jozan and then Regdar. “And back there, too. But let’s not keep making it a habit.” They fell silent. Each went about preparing themselves, though Naull didn’t have a bedroll. Regdar offered her own and Jozan was certain they exchanged a smile that was more than just a smile. He chuckled to himself. He set his things up, pulling out the lanterns they brought - two in total - and filled them with oil. Just in case someone needed to relieve themselves in the night or they needed to get away from the firelight fast. He set them away from the flames and laid down. Regdar agreed to take the first shift. Naull the second. Jozan took his crossbow and loaded it, placing it beside him as he lay his head back for rest. “Expecting bad dreams, Jozan?” Said Lidda as she leaned against the packed earth behind her, hands laced together under her head. “Let us hope not,” he mused aloud. He closed his eyes and soon drifted off into a calm, peaceful sleep. The crackling of the fire was the only noise that reached him. And Lidda’s soft snoring.
Naull, unable to sleep, listened to the sounds of the night around her. Insects in the distance, animal calls that felt closer than she suspected they were. Lidda’s snoring. She smiled as she looked over at the halfling woman. It had taken no time for her to drift off and Naull was envious of that. The little woman’s chest rose and fell slowly, almost rhythmically.         She just lay there, eyes closed, musing about the day’s events. Larktiss would not approve, she knew. But she was traveling with a capable cleric, an experienced warrior. And Lidda. Who she was very certain was skilled in whatever someone might need for treasure hunting. She had everything she needed, except a bedroll it seemed. It was kind of Regdar to lend her his own. He’s a kind sort of person, she thought as she looked at his image in the darkness. He’d moved away from the group, sword drawn and shield by his side, to watch over them. The firelight had died down considerably and though she could see him, his outline was a blurry black and purple thing. She sighed at the darkness. It lent him a sort of mystery that she liked. He reminded her of Larkitss but also not; she couldn’t explain it. Both men seemed to have a wisdom about them, though Larktiss was certainly older than Regdar - by many decades, she knew. She would ask Regdar about himself. She was curious. And Larktiss taught her to ask questions whenever she might have them. She sat up quietly, trying not to wake Lidda beside her and she looked over to Jozan. She saw that his eyes were open and the sight almost started her into a gasp. He was holding his crossbow close to his chest and he caught her eyes. “Shh.” His voice was very soft but she heard him. She looked to Regdar and she realized he was also on alert. Had they heard something she hadn’t? They must’ve.         The young wizard moved to reach for her staff and Regdar shifted his left hand towards them, his fist tight. She took that as a “no” and stopped. She’d have to be fine without her staff again - not a true concern but having it did make her feel more grounded. “Naull,” Jozan whispered softly. “There’s something in the woods with us.” “I thought Regdar said the fire would keep the spiders away.” “It isn’t spiders,” Regdar said. “And it isn’t goblins either.” “What?” Naull asked in confusion. “Bigger. Heavy steps in the woods. Not trying to hide.” The old warrior shifted himself slightly. “Well, shouldn’t we move then? Wake Lidda?” Naull whispered back. Jozan leaned up and started to get to his feet, still crouching low. He looked at her and said something but it was lost in an impossibly loud yell. She snatched her staff up as Lidda sat bolt up, gasping a little as she did so. “W-what the hells was that?” She turned to Naull. Regdar shouted and Naull saw him whirl around, launching himself forward with a battle cry. He disappeared from her sight and she scrambled to follow him. The sound of metal on metal echoed in the forest and she saw what Regdar had heard. A massive, seven-foot tall creature was locked in combat with Regdar; the studded club it held was being blocked by Regdar’s huge sword. The lumbering creature was covered in thick fur, so shadowed by the darkness that she couldn’t tell its color, and it loomed over the warrior with slavering fangs yellowed with rot. Its orange-yellow eyes glowed in the night and she watched it launch a foot out, connecting solidly with Regdar’s stomach and sending the man sprawling backwards. He rolled down the hill a dozen feet, stopping only because his back hit a tree truck and he cried out. “Agh!” He sputtered, coughing violently as he shook his head. “Regdar!” Naull yelled.         The creature turned to her and a toothy grin greeted Naull. It took a giant step forward and covered half the distance between them. Her eyes widened and she saw another creature, identical to the first, emerge from the forest around them. Shadows seemed to pull away from the edges of its huge body and it clumsily stumbled over a rock but did not fall. It slapped a studded club into its great clawed paw and a low growl filled its throat. It said something and the other creature laughed. Naull didn’t know the language, though it sounded like the tongue of Giants; guttural, resonant words. The massive creature that had kicked Regdar was on her, shifting forward faster than she’d expected and catching her right arm. She dropped her staff, surprised by the immense strength of the thing, and it squeezed. Pain shot through her forearm. She felt like her arm would shatter - she screamed. She broke out into a cold sweat but narrowed her eyes through the pain and shouted a sharp phrase at the creature. She locked eyes with it. “Veth-nuur, egweth nargul!” The hissing, foul words left her lips. Using her free hand she wiped her brow, sweat coming away on her fingertips, and placed her thumb and pinky finger together. With the three other fingers she touched the creature’s arm that was holding her, curling them like a scorpion’s tail as her nails hit fur. Black smoky energy exploded out of her three fingers, snaking up the thing’s thickly muscled arm and its deep set eyes widened. The grip loosened considerably, the power of her spell settling a crushing wave of fatigue over the monster. Color faded from its face and it blinked in confusion. Its shoulders sagged and it took a step back, fear creasing its features as it regarded the much smaller woman. Its grip on the weapon in its hand loosened. Regdar rushed forward from her left, crashing into the thing and the two went tumbling back into the deep shadows of the night forest. Naull heard Lidda shout and looked up, seeing Jozan aiming his crossbow at the other approaching thing. “Bugbears!” Lidda yelled. She shifted away from where she’d stood next to Jozan, diving into the thick scrubgrass nearby and was gone. Naull couldn’t see her at all. Jozan let his shot fly but the thing was too close. The bolt flew past its snarling face, missing it, and the beast drew back its own weapon and slammed it onto the crossbow in the priest’s hands. The crossbow exploded into shards of wood and twisting metal; the blow had shattered it completely. Jozan looked horrified. He stared down at his hands, strangely uninjured by the blow, and seemed dumbstruck as the creature reared back for another strike. “Jozan!” Naull called out, twisting her hand towards it. Words of power bubbled up from her lips.         “Weln vurr, nargul!”         Green energy coalesced into her palm, slithering up to her outstretched finger. A coruscating ray sprang forth, striking the bugbear’s chest and drawing the strength from its body in a mist of green light. Tendrils of the smoke curled away from the creature as it cried out, its muscled bulk shrinking as the spell stole its strength. These seemed to coil up into the night sky, fading like a snuffed candle in an instant. Naull smirked.         “Ha! And Larktiss told me I was wasting my time learning that spell!” No one responded and she turned to move towards where Regdar had disappeared. She picked up her staff and tried to navigate the darkness but the rocks and tightly packed trees made it difficult. She shifted to the side and heard the sounds of fighting but couldn’t see anything. She whispered, gripping the staff and focusing her magic into the wood of the walking stick. She dipped a hand into her spell component pouch, searching for the phosphorescent moss - it had long ago lost its glow but it was vital for the light spell.         She was digging around in her pouch, trying to find it by feel since the firelight was dim enough that she couldn’t see, when she was knocked roughly to the ground. The shove unbalanced her and she tumbled down the hill, her head striking the side of a tree and knocking her senseless. She lost her staff somewhere and her head spun; the world was dark but deeper splotches of black seemed to appear in the grey of her vision. She’d come to rest, uncomfortably, against a sharp stone. She tried to stand but her head swam and she toppled to the side, slurring a word she didn’t even understand herself.         She saw figures move in the dark ahead of her; a larger one was swinging its great arms back and forth, while the smaller one dodged behind a tree. R-regdar, she hazily thought. She shook her head and tried to stand again, this time managing to keep her feet as she braced against the stone. The ground felt uneven, not just because of the stones and tough grass beneath her boots. She pushed herself up and stumbled forward, using the surrounding trees to balance herself as she moved closer to the sounds of battle. Naull saw something in her peripheral, a quick shadow passing by, and turned. Nothing was there. She reached up a thin hand to hold the side of her head and it came back wet, sticky. Was she bleeding?         She didn’t have time to consider.         Regdar’s shadowy form came into view again and the man’s blade caught the minimal light from the smouldering campfire. It glinted, sending little beams of yellow and gold scattering through the dark forest. She’d lost the moss in her hand and couldn't find it in the darkness.         “Naull,” she heard Regdar shout towards her. “Get out of here!” He grunted and she saw the bugbear grab his sword arm but the spell she’d cast still weighed on it; it wasn’t strong enough now to hold against the warrior’s considerable strength. He pushed it back, snatching his arm away and causing it to stumble. The tall warrior brought his bastard sword around in a one-handed wide arc. It caught the bugbear as it reached out, taking the creature’s arm off at the elbow and passing into the filthy, piecemeal armored chest. It screamed, roaring in pain and lashed out with its only hand. The claws caught a gap in Regdar’s waist and he cried out.         Naull reached the two, stumbling forward with her hand outstretched and trying to call the words of a spell to her mind.         The bugbear slammed the fully armored warrior into her, knocking the unsteady wizard down. The young mage didn’t get back up, the darkness of unconsciousness pulling at the edges of her vision. She didn’t know where Regdar was. All light faded from the world and Naull lost consciousness.
Regdar tumbled to the side, searing pain lancing through his waist as he shifted away from the clumsy clawing of the bugbear. Blood poured from the stump of its arm and his blade was still stuck in the creature’s side. How is it not dead, he thought. He cursed and drew a dagger from his high boot. The thing was hurt but getting close enough to use a dagger made the wounded Regdar unsure. The claws had dug a ragged hole in him and he could feel blood oozing down his leg, slowly puddling into his boot. The squelching feeling against his toes brought a sickening feeling into his mind. He moved forward, knife pointed towards the bugbear and called out. “Come on, you big bastard!” It shouted and lurched forward, the blade in its body making any movement awkward. He dodged to the side and slashed at it. Matted, filthy fur kept his blade from finding purchase though and he hissed a curse at the monster. He didn’t know where Naull was but that hit must’ve knocked her out. He stabbed out, lower this time and the tip sliced into the thigh of the wounded bugbear. It whimpered, trying to pull its leg back. But loose rocks and blood caused it to slip, dropping to the ground. The incline was too severe for it to keep its position. Regdar had to jump over the tumbling thing and turn, seeing it fall end over end. His sword was still stuck in it as it fell, only knocking free when the creature slammed its back into a large tree. A great crack sounded and Regdar watched the thing’s head loll to the side, obviously broken. Regdar waited for a breath, then another - the bugbear didn’t move. Good. He found Naull, dropping to the woman’s side and cursing as his wound stung. He’d need to deal with that soon or he could bleed out. He checked her. She had a nasty gash on the left side of her head and she looked bruised. Nothing seemed broken, though. He leaned her against a tree and nodded to her, shaking his head as he realized she couldn’t see him. Damn it. He shifted up, holding his side, and moved toward the incline. Regdar could hear fighting above him but with his wound, he didn’t know if he’d make it in time. Clutching the dagger in his hand tightly, he crested the hill, seeing that Jozan was still trying to battle the other bugbear. Its blows were weak, it looked like; Jozan clumsily blocked the creature’s claw swipes with his mace but was slowly losing ground. The thing wasn’t as powerful but it still hit harder than most men. The priest knocked another blow aside and the creature lashed out, its attack a feint. The claws caught Jozan’s unarmored chest and tore the vestments, drawing gouts of blood as they sank deep. He screamed and swung his weapon down, cracking it over the bugbear’s thick skull. It dropped to its knees. Regdar was several paces away and he didn’t want to throw his dagger for fear of striking Jozan. They were too close to one another. The priest, bleeding freely from his wound, brought the mace down in a two-handed blow. The bugbear caught his wrists in one paw and stopped the strike. It looked up at the priest, eyes level with his because of its great height and snarled loudly. Jozan yelled back, trying to pull the weapon away but he wasn’t strong enough. Regdar saw movement from behind the bugbear and Lidda sprinted from the shadows of the forest. The glint of her shortsword caught the last light of the campfires before they died completely. She leapt forward, throwing her entire weight - what little there was for a halfling - onto the back of the bugbear. It roared and threw its head back, exposing its furred throat. The halfling drove the weapon down into the thick neck, the point sinking slowly into the matted fur with a spurt of dark blood. Jozan was splashed with red and sputtered as it got into his mouth. A deep wheeze spilled from the bugbear’s discolored lips and it vainly tried to reach back for Lidda. She shifted away from its feeble grasp, drawing the blade out of its neck and stabbing down again with a scream. This strike bit deep, sinking up to the hilt of the little woman’s blade. A hideous gurgle filled the thing’s throat and it collapsed to the side, Lidda falling into a roll as it hit the ground. She managed her feet with incredible nimbleness and brandished the gore soaked blade at her fallen opponent. Her eyes moved quickly, taking in the scene and the burbling monster’s final breath rattled from its torn throat. It reached out a shaking paw, as if trying to pull itself away before sinking into death.         Silence once again dominated the night. Regdar’s breath came in ragged gulps and he moved over to his pack, rummaging around quickly through his provisions for the two bottles he’d purchased several years ago. He wrapped a bloody hand around one; a thick glass container, swirling with a dark liquid that sloshed like honey. He tore the potion’s stopper off with his teeth and brought it to his lips, the taste of cinnamon spilling over his tongue. Warmth enveloped his body and he could feel the itching sensation of healing magic wash over him, tingling down to his waist where the bugbear’s claws had torn into him. He dropped the empty bottle, which tumbled down the hillside into the deep darkness and Regdar snatched the other one up. He had to get to Naull. “Regdar!” Lidda called after him but he was already gone, disappearing into the forest in search of the injured wizard. She was right where he’d left her and he placed a bloody hand on her, tilting her forward to get the potion to her lips. She made a soft noise and she brought a hand to his face, as if trying to stop him. “No, no, Larktiss. I’m a grown woman, I don’t need you to feed me.” She smiled, eyes still closed and the words stunned the warrior for a moment. He just sat there for a second, looking at this wounded young woman and he shook his head clear. Regdar poured the contents of the potion into her mouth and she made a contented noise. “O-oh, that’s nice. Thank you, Larktiss.” She let her head fall back and was silent. He watched her chest rise and fall, the magic of the potion knitting the head wound back together. After a few moments, the gash was gone and the blood on her face flaked, dropping away to the ground. Regdar sighed, standing up and reaching down to collect her. She was a foot shorter than he was, unarmored and carrying very little. But the old warrior was still surprised at how little she seemed to weigh. It felt like carrying a child. His eyes turned forward and in the shadows of the night, he could’ve swore he saw the outline of a young girl’s face staring at him from the deeper darkness in the trees. He looked away and then back. Nothing. He sighed, shaking his head. “The dead don’t visit,” he told himself, taking his steps carefully on the incline. He managed to bring the unconscious woman back up to where the camp was. Lidda and Jozan were kneeling down, the priest holding his hands over his own claw marks. These oozed blood. He winced as the red enveloped his fingers and dribbled out between them. The injured priest began an invocation, looking to Lidda as he did so. “Turn your eyes away.” He said softly.         She did so and brilliant light spilled from between his fingers. Lidda made a clicking noise with her tongue, as if in awe. After a moment, Jozan’s breathing became more steady and he stood with Lidda’s help.         “Wow, Jozan,” she said as she helped him up. “I’m impressed.”         “You saw me heal that man in Fairbye, Lidda.” He said, still wincing as he moved to pick at the shards of his crossbow. He sighed in frustration. Regdar saw that it was ruined; the stylized forearm and stock were completely destroyed. There was not much chance of repairing it, especially not out in the woods.         “I can’t be impressed more than once?” She quipped. This felt different to Regdar, though, from her normal snide comments. She had flecks of blood on her face and neck, with her hands almost coated in blood as well. Her attack had been vicious and she struck exactly where she’d needed to. Regdar didn’t know many warriors who could be so precise and deadly; that was a rare gift, one even he couldn’t accomplish consistently. Luck sometimes was greater than a man’s skill, though. Or a halfling woman’s.          “And you’re a treasure hunter,” Jozan asked, looking at her as he dropped the pieces of the ruined weapon. At this point it was little more than kindling, though Regdar could see the man’s frustration at the loss of it.         “Among other things.” She smiled, giving a little bow. “I have many talents.”         “Of that I am certain.” The priest looked to Regdar, who still carried Naull in his arms. He said nothing but Regdar thought there was a look of concern on his face. Something outside of worry for the young wizard’s well-being. He couldn’t place it, though, and the man averted his eyes from Regdar’s.         “She took a bad hit to the head, then a tumble. She’ll be okay, though. I’d saved a few healing potions for something like this, though I didn’t expect that I’d need to use both of them on the same night.” Regdar put the small woman down and Lidda moved over, placing a hand on her head.         “Jozan, those were bugbears.” Lidda looked over Naull for another moment and turned back to the priest.         “I hadn’t expected that,” Regdar added. Jozan’s face, even in the darkness, looked very serious. Worry creased Regdar’s brow as Jozan stared in silence. When he spoke there was something uncomfortable about his tone. “It seems there were many unexpected things this evening,” the priest said, looking down at the unconscious woman.

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