SALVATION FOR THE FALLEN, Chapter 22

Huor’s one word, Baroness, paralyzed Larien.  Larien sat looking at Huor in stunned shock and surprise; her hand still resting on his chest.  Oh, my!  What should she do, now?  The fact that Huor had thought of Baroness before passing out spoke to the closeness that was shared by the two.  She knew the special bond that existed and the panic that Baroness must be experiencing since Huor was obviously going through the same feelings.  Larien realized that it was imperative that she get to Baroness to allay her fears and give her peace that Huor was going to be alright.  Larien’s thoughts started going in all different directions at the same time, bombarding her senses.  If she left to seek Baroness, who would take care of Huor?  Would he understand why she might not be here when he wakes up?  Of course, he might sleep for hours which meant she might be able to leave and come back before he regained consciousness.  Would she be able to find Baroness?  She had no idea where to start looking for her.  When she was successful in finding her, would Baroness accept what Larien had to tell her or would she need proof with her own eyes that he was alive and not at death’s door?  Then there were all of the new additions to Meneldur.  Would they think she was inhospitable if she ran out without taking the time to meet them?  She was not prepared to explain the true nature of her departure to them at this point in time.  Larien looked around at all the cots still filled with her patients.  She had yet to walk the rounds of the patients still left in her care.

Larien was feeling overwhelmed with all her thoughts bombarding her at one time. She told herself to just breathe!  Well, one thing was clear; she could not stay sitting thinking about what needed to be done while time was swiftly flying away.  Action was needed.  After one more look at her patient to make sure he was now resting comfortably, she picked up her supplies and took them to the medicine room for disposal.  Nathra was already there preparing for the day.   As Larien handed her basins and basket to Nathra, she asked, “Do you mind taking care of these for me?  I don’t have time to take care of them myself.  I must leave immediately on an errand that cannot wait.”

“Of course I will.  Go.  Take care of what you need.  If you’re worried about Huor, I will keep an eye on him while you’re gone.”

“Thank you, Nathra.  That greatly eases my mind.  If he should wake in a restless mood or try to leave for any reason, tell him that I am handling it.  Tell him that he must stay here until my return and I will let him know what I have discovered at that point.  It is extremely important that he not get agitated or get up for the rest of today at least.  We cannot afford his wound to reopen.  Oh, and the dressing should be changed at least twice to keep infection away.”

“No problem.”  Nathra queried, “What if he asks where you are?”

“Just let him know I went to visit his friend.  He should understand.  I must go.  Time is of the essence.  And, thank you for your help; you’re a gem.  Oh, one more thing, please make the rounds and use your best judgment as to who needs to stay and who can go home.  I don’t know how long this will take me.”

Nathra smiled as she tried to shoo Larien out of the hospital.  “No problem, Larien.  Now, off with you.  I have this covered here and I believe that Melilot will be here after breakfast.  Between the two of us, all will be handled.  Go!”

Larien didn’t hesitate.  She grabbed her cloak and since she knew she would have to go through the older, lesser used hallways, she took one of the extra torches from the chamber walls.  She lit it on her way out the door.  Her mind was already racing trying to figure out where would be the best place to go to meet Baroness.  She was trying to communicate to Baroness telepathically.  Larien thought it best to meet at one of the back entrances to the mountain.  It was out of the mainstream areas and they would have privacy since they were meeting in the daylight.  She visualized the exact cave entrance and sent it to Baroness.  She sent positive thoughts about Huor, too.   It had been such a long time since she spoke with Baroness like this and she hoped Baroness would remember her and listen.  Huor was definitely not in any condition to make this trek so soon after surgery.  Due to the length of time before he came into her care, she figured Baroness was probably frantic with worry and in great pain.

Larien’s mind was racing as she traversed the corridors, the flame from her torch lighting her way.  The path was relatively smooth in comparison to the unevenness of the various sizes of the dripping icicles hanging from the ceiling.  Most hung closer to the wall.  However, occasionally, she encountered one closer to the center of the path which had her ducking around it.  She was now glad for the additional warmth her cloak provided her.  The air was moist, heavy, dank and stale.  There was no warmth from the sun touching this area.  It was too far from the normal rotundas and sleeping quarters and too far from the outside exits.  Very few people knew and remembered these back paths.  But, right now, Larien wasn’t bother by the chilling cold or smell or uneven terrain.  It served her purpose well enough as she wound her way through the heart of the mountain.  The path beckoned to her, calling for her to continue; or, was it Baroness?

She hadn’t given Baroness a thought when Huor was first brought to her.  Her immediate thought was only of him.  Seeing him carried up from the battlefield and into her care shocked and scared Larien more than she cared to admit, to herself or to anyone else.  She and Huor had been through a lot over the many decades since he had come to Meneldur.  He was a broken man when they first met and she helped him through those long, dark and hopeless days.  But he had found a new purpose, a new mission that gave him the will to continue living.  Baroness was a large part of that incentive.  He worked hard with Baroness to give his life purpose and direction.  He was there to help her when she first brought the boys home.  She had no practical experience handling children, let alone three young, mischievous boys.  All three of them carried their own scars and memories.  Larien felt she always walked a fine line with what happened to the boys’ parents, how she found them, and giving them a warm and secure home-life. 

Huor and Larien’s relationship developed into a mutual respect for each other.  There was understanding of past hurts and healings, and more importantly, acceptance of each other for where they were in life right then.  He had become a man whom she relied upon for strength, guidance, and wisdom.  He was the one that she went to for advice especially after her father died.  Not that she looked at Huor as a father figure but he had many of the same valued ideals that Farren had.  Larien looked to Huor as a kind of moral compass.  Larien thought herself to be pretty immune to battle injuries and deaths.  However, to see him brought to her this morning just tipped her world upside-down.  She knew that Deamon probably noticed her reaction but hoped that the others had not.  She didn’t want it known where her weaknesses were.  As the Elf Queen, she had a certain standard that she kept for herself and showing weakness was not one of them in the off chance that it could be used against her or harms those she loved.  It was even more important now with the influx of additional people to Meneldur.  Whether they were going to stay and put down roots in Meneldur or go on to other parts after a brief respite within its gates, Larien personally felt that her actions needed to be above reproach.  Running off with her cloak and torch would probably cause some eyebrows to be raised should she have been noticed.  Well, if it was, it was.  Finding Baroness was more important for the moment and Larien would deal with everything else later.

Larien could see the path ahead lightening up and the corridor was widening into a small cave-like area.   The chill was going away and she could smell the freshness of the morning air wafting down the corridor.  She breathed deeply, clearing her lungs of the musty, cloying dankness.  If she remembered correctly, this next corner should take her to the entrance.  Larien doused her torch and let it fall to the floor as there were no holders to hold it on the cave walls.  She hoped that Baroness listened to her urgings and would be waiting for her.  Larien’s time was precious and she could only wait for a short time for Baroness to join her.  She knew the longer she was away, the more explanations she would have to give regarding her absence and she wanted to avoid having to do that.  Not that the Elf Queen needed to explain herself at all but she did prefer honesty in her dealings with the inhabitants of Meneldur.  However, there were times when they didn’t need to know everything that went on in the keep and she felt this was just such a time.

This cave entrance was on the north face of the mountain.   One could stand at the edge of the plateau and see the beauty of the lands, woods and fields on the other side of the mountain range.  It would take several days journey to traverse what she could see from this one vantage point.  The sun was still in her ascent into the morning sky, her warming rays already working their magic even into the confines of the cave.  As Larien neared the entranceway, her thoughts leaped to Baroness, concentrating on connecting with her.  Larien’s heart leapt.  Baroness was here!

Larien closed her eyes briefly so she could get use to the brightness and reached her right hand out, beckoning to Baroness as she walked through the portal into the morning light.  Larien stepped into the full sunlight.  Baroness approached Larien from her right side, casting a shadow across Larien’s path.

Larien quietly spoke to Baroness, “Hello, my friend.  It has been a long time since we last were together.”

“Yes it has, Queen Larien. You know I have been worried about Huor.  I hope you have news of him?  We have both been in great pain.”

“He was sleeping when I left him, Baroness.  He was injured in the battle with the orcs taking a wound to his side.”

Baroness groaned in pain for Huor, her pain resonating throughout the cave and mountainside.  Larien tried to soothe Baroness, ease her suffering.

“He was extremely stubborn, staying to battle even with the cut to his side instead of coming to me.”  Larien stepped closer to Baroness, looked into her eyes as she continued, “I am sorry for the pain which you have endured throughout the long, dark night; the need to see him to assure yourself all was well.  To have the knowledge that he was just injured and not laying down somewhere dying.  I was not aware of your plight, his injury, until this morning when they brought his body to me.  I know that you must have felt his pain and have been trying hard to get to him.”  Baroness bent her head in acknowledgment as Larien reached up to touch Baroness’s snout.  “Your name was the last thing he said before he fell…asleep.  I got here as quickly as I could to set you at ease.”

Before Larien could continue, she and Baroness heard a scuffling sound coming from the interior of the cave.  It intensified.  Larien turned towards the sounds, wondering what could be causing such noise.  She took a few steps forward to investigate the cave entrance while she said, “Baroness, you stay here.  Let me see what is going on.”

She was standing to the side of the doorway and looking towards the commotion.  Suddenly a loud, angry voice rent the air bellowing, “Stand back, Larien, while I kill this beast!”

Bone Face broke through the cave’s entrance, brandishing his sword; the morning sun glistening along the long blade momentarily blinding her with its brilliant winking.  She screamed, “NO, BONE FACE!!  STOP!!!”

Larien tried to position herself between the furious man and the startled Baroness.  She thought, “Baroness, move back and let me handle this.  Now!”  An acute pain started at her left hip and traveled down her leg.  She only had a few seconds to stem the advancement of the charging man so she ignored it, digging deep into herself to move swiftly to stem the upcoming disaster.  Events were moving rapidly out of control.  She could see that every well-honed muscle on Bone Face’s body was ready for his command to attack.  His eyes flashed in anger, his lips forming a straight line marring his face.  She could see the white knuckled grip on his sword as he raised his arm ready to attack.  She was frantically thinking of the best way to stop Bone Face from injuring Baroness.

She ignored her own pain.  She took a stance, legs firmly planted as she raised her right hand as she faced Bone Face.  She shouted an incantation, “Gwindor!  Súrion!”

Bone Face froze in mid-flight.  The tip of his blade a hair’s width from Larien’s outstretched hand.  He found himself breathing but unable to move any other part of his body save his eyes.  He could see and move his eyes to the left and right and he could blink.  He willed his arm to move, his legs.  They didn’t obey no matter how hard he willed them.  He could not talk, could not utter a sound from his motionless lips.  It was as if he had fallen into a cold, cold body of water and froze into a statue in mid rush.  Bone Face’s righteous anger now turning quickly into a panic he never felt before.  He looked at Larien.  Her face was white.  In all the years that he had known her, he had never seen her eyes look like this.   They glittered with an inner depth.  They were the most intense green he had ever seen – almost a white-green, hot, angry, and penetrating.  They bore into him.  His eyes dropped to her raised hand at the end of his weapon and saw a bright red mark marring her palm.  It dripped, slowly, with each beat of her heart, one single drop at a time.  They were collecting, pooling.  He couldn’t move his eyes from the trails those little droplets made as they traveled downward towards Larien’s wrist before dropping from his sight.

He closed his eyes to the sight of Larien’s blood.  He closed his mind to the look in Larien’s eyes.  He couldn’t talk.  He couldn’t move.  As he slowly opened his eyes he thought, “Mon dieu, what have I done?”

SALVATION FOR THE FALLEN Chapter 21

Finn planned to catch up with Deamon and his brothers after he gave Huor’s personal items to Pernelle Otniel.  Pernelle catalogued all clothing, boots, weapons, and armor from those injured and in the care of the clerics.  Typically the personal effects were given to their families, but in the case of those without family, the articles were held until the patients were released.  After seeing the cut in the armor, Finn knew that Huor would need to have his chainmaille repaired.  He was very lucky that the orc’s blade had to first slice the armor before connecting with his body.  Finn took a deep breath.  Yes, Huor was a very lucky man indeed to come away with such a minor wound as he had.  Had he not had such a well-made piece of armor and his expert swordsmanship, Finn felt sure that they could possibly be burying him instead of just stitching his wound.

“Hello, Pernelle.  I’m not sure you remember me but I am Larien’s brother, Finn.  You probably noticed that Butch and I brought Huor to Larien for medical attention earlier this morning.  She’s working on patching up the poor guy.  Anyway, here are his things.”  Finn handed the items to her.  As Pernelle shyly reached for Huor’s personal items, she glanced up at Finn as his fingers slightly brushed against hers.  “I thought they would be best left with you until his release.  I don’t think he has family close by to pick them up for him.”

Pernelle blushed.  “It is nice to finally meet you…Finn.” Pernelle paused slightly before she cleared her throat and added quietly, “Yes, I will take them.”  She relieved Finn of Huor’s belongings and as she turned away, Finn smiled to himself at her shyness.  He couldn’t help himself as he tried to tap into her thoughts.  But, it seemed that he was having difficulty.  He shook his head slightly, not sure if he was shaking the cobwebs out or shaking sense in.  It took him by surprise that she was able to block his access to them.  Either he was losing his touch or there was something more to Pernelle than at first glance.  There were very few people that were successful in blocking his mental attempts, Larien was one and Zigaroth was another - now, Pernelle?  This was unusual indeed.  His interest was definitely peeked.

Finn knew from something Larien had once mentioned that Pernelle kept very much to herself.  She lived in a very tiny cottage on the border between the village and Wildon Woods.  She was not what Finn would call the typical female.  In Finn’s experience, women were always trying to attract attention to themselves by tossing their hair, batting their eyelashes, heaving their bosoms, or touching a man’s arm.  They liked to flirt and flaunt their charms especially when men were around – specifically, when he was around.  However, Pernelle was not acting like that at all.  Other than the fact that she blushed and stammered when she talked to him, there was no evidence that she was flirting with him.  Pernelle didn’t do anything specific to bring his focus to her as a female.  And, yet, she intrigued him with her bashfulness and quiet demeanor.

Finn felt that she would be very content staying in the shadows and letting life flow around her.  He continued his perusal of her.  Pernelle’s figure was hard to determine with her dress and apron covering her body.  Finn concentrated on the features he could see.  Her hair was a soft light brown with streaks of darker chestnut intermingled.  She wore it pulled back away from her face and it smelled of fresh flowers.  He had gotten a whiff of it when she turned away from him earlier, maybe lavender.  His eyes roamed her face.  Her features were nicely proportioned, her nose slightly upturned at the end and cheeks still rosy from her blush.  Pernelle’s complexion was smooth and unblemished; no moles and no freckles that he could detect.  Finn thought her eyes were her most remarkable, not to mention most memorable facial feature.  They were a pale, light blue like the sky on a warm sunny day with a deeper, darker blue ring surrounding the lighter color like the sky when it goes from dusk to dark night.  When Pernelle glanced at him as he gave her Hour’s clothing, even for those few short seconds, his heart skipped a beat. 

In his experience, he was use to the come hither look when ladies looked his way, when they thought he wasn’t paying attention.  He could read their blatant desires.  He knew where he stood and what was expected and, more often than not, obliged them.  Pernelle didn’t look at him that way.  With Pernelle, he had the fleeting and unsettling feeling that her ice blue eyes could pierce right through him and see into his soul.  It was very disconcerting and Finn found himself in unchartered seas.  He imagined that she was judging him and had found him lacking and was dismissing him without as much as a blink of her blue eyes.  Lacking?  Him?  He gave himself a mental shake.  That was just a bit too far-fetched for him to believe.  Surely she was not turning the tables on him and reading his thoughts!  But, why was he acting this way?  Why was his body reacting so strongly?  He was usually so smooth and suave with the ladies.  He knew what they liked, what they didn’t like, how to talk to them, and how to make them open up to his advances.  Could Pernelle be the first woman that was impervious to his charm?  Was he losing his manly touch?  No.  Impossible.  Finn told himself to calm down.  He was sure it was just the surprise at seeing her eyes that had him in turmoil.  Never before had he been so influenced by a set of female eyes like he was with Pernelle’s.  In all the women he had known over the many, many years, not one other lady friend came close to her eye coloring or had given him such disquiet feelings.  He paused in his thoughts.  He closed his eyes as memories came flooding back to him.  He had seen that piercing, icy blue coloration before now, but not in a human.  Funny that he would think of this now.  He found he was actually going to compare Pernelle’s eyes with those of a wild wolf he had once befriended as a boy.  For a second time since introducing himself to Pernelle, he shook his head.  Finn suddenly experienced a shot of panic.  He needed to leave her presence.  He needed to gather himself and his memories.

He cleared his throat and forced a smile to his lips.  “Thank you, Pernelle, for your help.  You have a good day.”  He turned and walked away quickly, not giving her a chance to say her goodbyes.  He wasn’t sure how he would react should he look her in the face so soon after the self-revelations.  He felt her eyes boring into his back, observing his every footstep with those blue eyes of hers as he left her storage chamber to find Deamon.

He raised his head in an acknowledging nod as he walked over to the table where the men were having a much needed meal; the remnants of the half-smile he gave Pernelle still pasted on his face.  He forced a pleasant, friendly sound from his stiffened lips, “So, what do you think of all that happened this morning?”

Deamon set his tankard of tea down before answering Finn.  “Well, I think that we now have our work cut out for us.”  He kept his eyes on his plate as he picked up his fork.  “It seems that we have a lot of extra people arriving within our walls.  I think we need to eliminate those that are here for sanctuary and not here to kill Larien.”  He picked up his fork to continue eating his hash.

Finn looked startled, the forced smile ripped from his face.  “Extra people?  What are you talking about Deamon?  I was referring to Huor’s injuries.”

Since Deamon was busy with his food, Bone Face responded to Finn’s questions.  “Yes, extra people, Finn.  Look around.  The village of Lambton, on the other side of the Tonathium Mountains, was attacked by Dimosthenis.  They saw our signal fires about the same time those still alive needed to flee to a place of refuge.  The people snuck out with their lives and what little they could carry and trekked over the mountains.  The dwarven scout, Baulde Gamal, found them and brought them here.”  Bone Face took a swig of his drink.  “Seems they want to start their lives here in Meneldur.  We met two of them before you and Butch brought Huor up from the fields.”  His forehead wrinkled as if trying to remember something before continuing, “Harry Hopplehead and Fawkes Garewal.  Deamon gave those two blokes the all-clear.  He doesn’t think we have anything to fear from them.”

Deamon interrupted, “We met a couple of others when we were getting our breakfasts, brothers by the name of Jarlath and Jeroen MacAdol.  So far, I don’t think any of them are people of interest.  Why don’t you get yourself some food, Finn, and we’ll fill you in on the rest of things.”  Deamon gave both brothers a “look”.  Bone Face and Sly had seen it many times growing up.  They knew not to cross Deamon when he looked at them that special way.  It was his silent communication that the twins should be mindful of their thoughts and that he would take charge of the conversation when Finn returned.  Deamon did not want to tip his hand before he absolutely needed to do so, even to Finn.  He also thought that Finn might know more about the attempt on Larien’s life than he was saying.  He would pursue that at a later time.

While the men waited for Finn to return, Deamon watched the tables.  He had strategically chosen to sit in a chair where he could see all the other tables and, therefore, their occupants.  He wanted to see the interaction between each family group.  When they were waiting for their food, Harry Hopplehead had introduced his wife, Hetty, to them.  She looked very tired and hungry so he had kept his conversation with her short.  He figured he was not looking for a female commanding officer so she was ruled out almost immediately.  In fact, he could see Larien and Hetty becoming good friends when all this was over.  The Hoppleheads were hoping to open an inn close to the tavern.  Deamon thought that a good idea.  The tavern only had a couple of rooms to rent so this would help increase future trading in Meneldur from other villages.  Trade coming in and going out was always good for a town. 

There was another couple sitting with Harry and Hetty Deamon had yet to meet.  Since they were sitting only a table away from him, he listened closely to their conversation.  He thought he heard the names Figgles and Lyaia.  He raised an eyebrow, his lips smiling around his fork.  He hoped that Figgles was a nickname.  He couldn’t imagine going through life with that as a given name.  Deamon felt confident that this new couple was not a threat since they were so chummy with Hetty.  He finished his food and sat back in his chair.  He sighed, his appetite satiated.  By the looks of the new bodies milling around the tables, there were quite a number of newcomers from Lambton.  Deamon’s eyes continued to roam about the room, watching, contemplating.  Who here was not whom they seemed?  His eyes stopped at the table in the far corner.  There was a lone man sitting there, no one coming over to converse with him.  This man kept his head bent as he ate, not looking up or taking an interest in anything that was going on around him.  Deamon’s senses started to tingle.

“Hey, guys.” The men looked up.  “What do you make of that bloke in the back corner?  The one in the red jacket sitting by himself?”

The twins looked around to find the person Deamon was pointing out.  Sly shrugged his shoulders.  Bone Face, however, had more to say other than a mere body gesture.  “He seems to be a loner to me.  Even though there are a number of people from Lambton around, no one is talking to him.  It doesn’t appear that he is very interested in them either with him looking down and not up.  Deamon, do you think he might be our person of interest?”  The three brothers continued to ponder the stranger.

Finn returned with his plate and sat at the remaining chair at Deamon’s table.  He noticed that the men were all quiet and looking off into another area of the dining room and had yet to notice his return.  He cleared his throat.  “Who are you looking at with such interest?”

His question drew the attention of Deamon who asked, “Finn, do you see that lone man sitting in the corner?  The one in the red jacket.  What do you make of him?”

Finn took a mouthful of food while he stared at the man in question.  He took another bite and sip of his drink before he responded to Deamon’s question.  “He seems a bit of a loner to me.  Why do you ask?”

“I have this gut feeling that’s all.  I know he’s not one of ours.  Since we have been in battle, we have had no traveling vendors coming into Meneldur.  I am trying to ascertain if he is with the group from Lambton.  It doesn’t seem like anyone is giving him much attention which could mean that they think he’s from Meneldur and are just too tired to make his acquaintance just yet.  I don’t know.  He just makes me wonder.  He has definitely risen to a person of interest.”

Finn squint his eyes.  He continued to eat but something pulled at his subconscious as he gazed at the red jacketed gentleman.  Deamon broke into his thoughts.  “The orc battle is almost over.  With this new influx of people, it is the perfect cover for the assassin to blend right in and kill Larien.  Something new has developed and I need to catch you up on the latest news, Finn.  I haven’t had much of a chance to see or talk to you since the battle started.”  Deamon hesitated before he continued, “Bone Face recently overheard a conversation between two men about killing Larien; one voice he recognized.  However, the other was not familiar to him.  We need to discover who belongs to that second voice and I am confident that he will be the high commander and assassin.”

Finn put the finishing touches on his meal before he asked, “So, Deamon, what is your plan?  Do you think Mr. Red Jacket is him?  Do you want to confront him now?”

“No.  I want to watch him for a little bit; see how he interacts with the others.  I will want to get him into conversation with Bone Face and I at some point but I don’t want to rush him and possible spook him.  If he is the one plotting to take Larien’s life, I want to make absolutely sure before I kill him.”  He took the last drop from his tankard and slammed it on the table before continuing, “After Mr. Second Voice is dead and no longer a threat to Larien; I will then deal with the voice that we DO know.” 

“Are you going to share the name of that other voice with me?”

“No, Finn, not at this time.  I don’t want to tip my hand just yet.  Plus, I want to be absolutely sure in all things.  In the meantime, since I cannot be in all places at once, you all will have to become my informants.”  Deamon looked at each man as he gave them their orders.  “Sly will keep an eye on the stranger; see who he talks to and where he goes.  Bone Face, I want you to keep an eye on Larien.  If she leaves the healing room, I want you to tail her.  I want you to be prepared should anything happen or anyone suspicious approach her.  Try and not let her know you are following her.  If she does discover what is going on, I will just have to take care of it tonight.  I don’t relish the thought of telling her of the plot but should I need to, I will.  Finn, I want you to mingle with the other people see if you can pick up any valuable information.  I have some other matters that I need to attend to before we can make our move.  I want us to meet back here before the evening meal.  We’ll compare notes at that time.  Okay?”  Each man nodded in understanding and agreement as to his role and responsibilities.

As Deamon was about to continue, Sly looked up.  He made a motion with his hand indicating the other men follow the direction he pointed.  There, dressed in a cloak, was Larien.  She was walking swiftly away from the healing chamber and towards the passageway that lead away from the main rooms, a lit torch in her hand.  Bone Face emptied his glass, stood, and picked up his sword from the back of his chair.

Bone Face looked at Deamon and quietly said, “I know.  Keep hidden and keep her safe.”  Deamon nodded in agreement.  He felt it would not be long before the murderer would make his move.  Deamon was torn.  He felt exhilaration at the thought of final outcome.  Meneldur would be a better place for what was about to happen.  However, he did not want to contemplate the devastation should he fail in keeping Larien safe from harm.  Therefore, everything needed to be planned, right down to the minutest detail.  Absently, without conscious thought, his fingers started tapping while his mind raced.  A plan started to take shape.  A light came to his eyes at the same time his lips curled into a devious smile.  Yes.

Bone Face secured the weapon around his waist as he followed Larien.  Deamon’s voice continued to echo in his mind.   Deamon wanted her followed.  Keep Larien safe.  Okay, then follow her he would.  Since he didn’t know where she was going, he wanted to make sure he kept her in his sight.  To do that, he tried to follow her from the shadows.  Her soft boots made no sound on the stone so he could not track her by sound alone.  Bone Face knew there were a lot of corridors within the mountain with some leading to chambers and some exiting out of the heart of the mountain.  From the look of things, she took little used passageways - the ones not frequently traveled.  He tried to discover where they were by the smells, the dampness of the air, the temperature, anything that could give him a vague clue but he couldn’t tell if they were climbing further into the mountain or if they were on a course to the outside.  He tried to walk as quietly as Larien, ever mindful to keep his weapon from scraping against the stone walls as they maneuvered the hallways and his boot heals from sounding their tap-tap-tap. 

Larien wasn’t looking back so either she had no idea she was being followed or she had something more pressing on her mind.  Bone Face thought it was more the latter.  Knowing Larien like he did, he figured she was still upset about having to take care of Huor.  He knew she was aware of just how lucky Huor was and just how close to death he could have been had it not been for his armor.  Her face had turned quite white when she discovered who was on the litter.  He thought at that moment she was going to faint.  He had watched her very, very closely and had readied himself in case he had to catch her before she dropped to the floor.  However, she pulled herself together and gotten her emotions under control – albeit a shaky control. 

Larien and Bone Face walked for a while; it was hard to judge the exact amount of time without the sunlight as his guide.  He held back to let Larien turn a sharp corner, her cloak just passing out of sight.  It suddenly hit him.  Something was different.  When did the air change?  He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed.  It seemed less stale, fresher.  His senses were on high alert.  He heard the echo of the dropped torch as it rolled and rested against the wall.  His heartbeat accelerated.  He crossed to the right side of the corridor and stopped at the corner where she last disappeared.  He peaked guardedly around it.  Yes, there in front of him stood a mountain exit.  He was wise to have been cautious.  For there, silhouetted in the doorway, was Larien, her hand outstretched in front of her in supplication.  His hand automatically went to the weapon at his side for there, on the ground in front of her, was a large, dark, menacing shadow.