Dorlas, and…
Thoughts of Greenwillow set him drifting off. The mine still beckoned. He'd entered only because a shepherdess had told him of seeing light inside on rainy days. It wasn't much to go on, but neither had been a hundred other rumors.
But his thoughts were drifting like dandelion fluff, which was not a sound practice when faced with nine fanatical orcs and orc-friends.
Having decided, the barbarian stood, slid his sword home in its scabbard on his back, and picked up his belongings. Oddly, the fact he'd sheathed his sword made him look more dangerous than when the blade was naked. 'That's all very well and good,' he said politely to the orc, 'but I've other fish to fry. Good luck on your quest to serve the Lich Lord. I hope you receive your just rewards.'
The old orc frowned so its tusky teeth dented its lower lip. 'Anyone not of the army will suffer when it arrives. You'll be sorry you turned us down.'
Sunbright reflected that, like most fanatics, the orc had begun with a soft pitch and finished with a dire threat. 'I've much to be sorry for now; one more thing won't be a burden. Good day.'
And, tackle swinging around him, he swung off down the hill. He wasn't pursued, and hadn't expected to be.
Weeks later, Sunbright huddled under his blanket strung between four trees and nursed a small, damp fire. He hoped to get the fire hot enough to roast a brace of rabbits he'd shot earlier with his long arrows. So far he had a lot of smoke and precious little heat.
It had rained for three days, and everything he owned was either soaked or rusty. Further, winter was settling in, and he'd come far north in his quest-and hit the biggest dead end of all. For in topping a rise this afternoon, he'd seen a cleft mountain in the west and below it a tiny town split by a river. He'd forgotten the town's name, but remembered the place. It was the first town he'd encountered when dumped from Lady Polaris's high castle so many months ago. It had been in this town where he'd started his quest to track down all rumors of openings to the Nine Hells. For almost a year, he'd hoped and prayed to find a way to slip back inside those hellish tunnels, to find a way, somehow, to rescue Greenwillow. But each lead had proven false.
He'd persisted, even though, deep down, he knew Greenwillow was probably dead, that she had perished in hellfire or been killed by the fall onto stone. But part of him wouldn't accept it. It might be his native stubbornness, a flat-out refusal to believe anything until it was proven before his very eyes. Or perhaps he was simply becoming mush-brained.
And besides, if she were dead, wouldn't her spirit have visited him by now?
That would not be possible if she was still alive, and despite everything, he believed she was. Perhaps his shamanistic abilities, which came and went like dreams before sunrise, somehow were attuned to the half-elf, alive but trapped somewhere. Perhaps that signal, that siren's call, that promise led him on. Perhaps. Since he couldn't switch on his priestly powers like an ale tap, he could only wait for more to be revealed: in dreams, in campfire flames, in the murmurings of animals and the wind. Perhaps he shouldn't be using his legs to search, but his mind.
But he didn't know how.
He didn't know what he knew, except that his quest had ended in failure. Today he'd come full circle, back to his starting point, with winter crashing down, and no hope of searching through the snows. That hope was dashed, and there was nothing to take its place.
So what now?
'Ho, the camp!'
Instantly the barbarian located the source of the voice in the gathering gloom and located his weapons, sword and bow and warhammer. But too, he recognized the voice, a familiar one.
'Ho, Sunbright! May I enter your camp?'
Cursing inwardly, the barbarian kept his mouth shut. Although it was the worst of wilderness manners not to invite someone to his campfire, he bit his tongue. Perhaps the speaker, if ignored, would go away.
No such luck. The voice called, 'I'm coming in! Don't shoot!'
From the dark shuffled a figure in a plain shepherd's smock, with a blanket cloak folded around his shoulders and head. The man squatted and duck-walked under Sunbright's sodden blanket. The hood was pulled back, revealing a shiny bald head. Candlemas eased to his knees and warmed his stubby hands by the fire.
Without speaking, Sunbright studied the mage. He looked older, his eyes more sunken and pouchy, his beard speckled with white. The barbarian had thought mages didn't age, or aged only slowly, but Candlemas looked like a grandfather after only a year. Some great strain must be pressing down on him, but the warrior felt no sympathy.
Rubbing his craggy hands, hissing as if from arthritis, the mage said, 'I know you probably don't want to talk, but we should.'
'Why?' The word was jerked from Sunbright, who hadn't talked to anyone in days. 'Do you have more dirty work no sane man would tackle, so an innocent must be tricked?'
'I used you; I admit it.' Candlemas didn't look at Sunbright, but at the tiny fire. 'I can spark your fire higher, if you like.'
'Leave it be. I'm done with magic.'
'I always intended to reward you, you know.' Candlemas ignored the barbarian's rudeness.
'Likely,' Sunbright snorted. For something to do, he skinned his rabbits, which didn't take long. 'I was nothing but a tool. If I didn't meet your expectations, you were willing to see me destroyed readily enough, and look elsewhere.'
A casual shrug made the warrior grab the war-hammer, so Candlemas sat still. The patter of rain in the oak forest and the constant drip of runoff from the blankets was a small music around them. 'But you did live up to my expectations, them and more. You have the most amazing ability to survive I've ever seen or heard of.'
Another snort. 'A horse can climb a mountain if whipped hard enough. That means nothing.'
'No, it's true. You survived where a dozen men would have died. And you bested your foes in a remarkable fashion: a dragon, a lich lord, fiends. I can't think it was luck or mere brawn or even fighting savvy. I think you possess something that even you don't suspect.'
Despite his effort at disinterest, Sunbright paused in slicing the rabbit. The mage's words were an echo of his own bleak thoughts of only moments ago. If his brawn couldn't find Greenwillow, perhaps it was time to try something else.
'Anyway, I always pay my debts,' Candlemas droned on. 'I would see you properly rewarded.'
'What could you possibly give me? I need nothing.'
Well, one thing he needed.
'Not true. I can give you, well, more than you can imagine. Training in magic, for one. I cannot make you the equal of a Netherese archmage; I haven't made that rank myself, yet. And I doubt you'd ever make much of a surface mage. Somehow I don't picture you scrying secrets for kings or fashioning magic jewelry boxes, or overseeing farms and orchards as I do. But I can point the way to some magics you'd find interesting. Magical devices and scrolls and potions that would make you the equal of any groundling wizard in your own field of study: the ways of animals and plants and rivers and trees and stone. I know these things matter to you, else why would you be here in a rainy, cold forest when you could be elsewhere in comfort?'
Sunbright didn't tell the wizard that, in contrast to living on the snow of the tundra, this rainy forest was paradise. Rather, he fought down the desire that swelled in his bosom, the desire to know natural things in the real sense, not just on the surface but down to their very core. His father Sevenhaunt had had that ability. That had been the source of his name, for he'd been haunted the seven days around by questions without answers. And Sunbright was his only son and, according to his mother's words, heir to that power-or curse.
'You're quiet.' Candlemas cut into his thoughts.
'It's late. I'm tired,' quipped the warrior; But his hands hung idle while his mind raced.
The podgy mage hunkered close, one hand balled to a fist to contain his excitement. 'Come with me, Sunbright. Work for me-with no more games, I promise. I'll make it worth your while. Every day you're with me, helping me find what I need, you'll learn more about yourself and how to get what you-'
'Can you bring back Greenwillow?'
