The Adventures of a Paladin (NSFW)

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The following story is a loose re-telling, in a narrative form, of the backstory and adventures of the character I play in a table-top RPG I’m a part of. The story is set in the Forgotten Realms world, around the region known as the Heartlands; while locations are canon, all characters (except for some NPCs) are made for the game/story. Comments and feedback are most certainly welcome, but please post any comments or feedback to this thread.

As the story progresses I will edit this post to include the names of some important people encountered during Helene's travels, some noteworthy events that occur, and some useful references.

For those who are interested: the start of this story occurs in 1374DR.

I hope you enjoy the story.

Helene (images)

(images taken from Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Helene's Learnings

Dogma of Torm:
Salvation may be found through service. Every failure of duty diminishes Torm and every success adds to his luster. Strive to maintain law and order. Obey your masters with alert judgment and anticipation. Stand ever alert against corruption. Strike quickly and forcefully against rot in the hearts of mortals. Bring painful, quick death to traitors. Question unjust laws by suggesting improvement or alternatives, not additional laws. Your fourfold duties are to faith, family, masters, and all good beings of Faerun.

Oath of Vengeance:
Fight the Greater Evil. Faced with a choice of fighting my sworn foes or combating a lesser evil, I choose the greater evil.
No Mercy for the Wicked. Ordinary foes might win my mercy, but my sworn enemies do not.
By Any Means Necessary. My qualms can't get in the way of exterminating my foes.
Restitution. If my foes wreak ruin on the world, it is because I failed to stop them. I must help those harmed by their misdeeds.

Useful Maps

Forgotten Realms - Sembia map (Wikidot)
Forgotten Realms - Sembia and Dalelands Map (Candlekeep)
Forgotten Realms - Map of Highmoon (Realmshelp)
Forgotten Realms - Map of Cormyr (Nerdovore)

Notable Characters

Helene Jarraton (Helen Targunsen) - the protagonist of the story.
Master Calvin - a travelling merchant.
Finn Blackstar - owner and barkeep of The Black Horse Inn in Archenbridge.
Sariel - half-elven serving wench at The Black Horse Inn.
Thora Hayfield - master of a trading barge between Archenbridge and White Ford
Falven Wintermark - owner of The Rising Moon Inn in Highmoon
Thiala - elven cook at The Rising Moon Inn
Eravan Amakiir - elven priest of Lord Torm

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - The Camp - in which we meet the protagonist of the story
Chapter 2 - The Disappearing - in which our protagonist begins her flight
Chapter 3 - The Flight - in which Helene continues her flight from home
Chapter 4 - The Worker - in which our protagonist settles and earns her way
Chapter 5 - The News - in which Helene hears news she didn't want to hear
Chapter 6 - The Departure - in which Helene decides to leave Archenbridge
Chapter 7 - The Talk - in which Helene gets a little helpful advice regarding certain female issues
Chapter 8 - The River - in which Helene reaches the village of White Ford
Chapter 9 - The Trekking - in which Helene treks to Highmoon…and enjoys herself a little (NSFW)
Chapter 10 - The Refuge - in which Helene enters Highmoon and manages to settle
Chapter 11 - The Employee - in which we see Helene's life in Highmoon
Chapter 12 - The Experiment - in which Helene finally allows herself a moment's pleasure (NSFW)
Chapter 13 - The Priest - in which Helene meets the man she's been told to seek
Chapter 14 - The Discussion - in which Helene speaks at length with the priest
Chapter 15 - The Decision - in which Helene makes - or confirms - her choice
Chapter 16 - The Informing - in which Helene informs of her decisions to leave Highmoon
Chapter 17 - The Leaving - in which Helene and Erevan leave Highmoon
Chapter 18 - The Gap - in which Helene and Erevan journey to the Thunder Gap
Chapter 19 - The Waystation - in which Helene and Erevan start their journey through the Gap
Chapter 20 - The Confession - in which Helene reveals almost everything of The Event
Chapter 21 - The Responding - in which Helene discovers why Torm called to her
Chapter 22 - The Instruction - in which Helene starts to learn about Lord Torm
Chapter 23 - The Pass - in which Helene and Erevan navigate the Thunder Gap

 

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Chapter 1 – The Camp

The young woman slowly sank to her knees in the middle of the now-unoccupied campsite as a long and low moan of despair and horror escaped her lips. Held loosely in her right hand was her favourite longsword – she called it “Matchstick” – that was slowly and gently burning from the magical flame that she could call into being to encase the blade. Her left arm was dangling by her side, weighted by the kite-shaped shield that it was holding. She didn’t feel the weight of the blade, though, nor that of the shield. Her hands felt numb, almost. Her body felt heavy, as if the breastplate armour she was wearing had suddenly gained fifty pounds. The tabard that she wore over her armour – the tabard was made of simple cloth that was largely white with a dark red stripe from left shoulder to right hip – bore her family crest…and was covered in blood spatter.

The blood was not her own, at least. No, the blood that spattered her armour and shield and pretty face had originally belonged to the three men whose corpses lay strewn about the campsite around her. They had been her men, her soldiers; she had been their lieutenant. They hadn’t been what one might have called “good” men, but they were – had been – a part of her family’s private militia. They had died by her hand, and it hadn’t even been self-defence.

The woman’s mind felt sluggish as she tried to reconcile what she’d just done, what had just happened. Three corpses for three soldiers, all slain by her hand. Slightly off to the side of the camp was another body. This body was only partially dressed, the leather armour roughly stripped and the underclothes cut and torn. The additional corpse was clearly female…and the body had seen signs of rough handling, possibly abuse. The dead female’s throat had been slit, and her groin and backside were red from obvious abuse. Even a cursory examination would provide the suggestion that the woman had been raped, possibly multiple times, before meeting her eventual demise. More telling was the attire of the dead female – different livery to that of the other corpses. What was left of the dead woman’s tabard was pale blue – clearly belonging to a different faction to that of the other corpses.

The campfire had all but died to embers when the woman – the living one, of course – finally got the will to move again. How long had she been in her withdrawn state? She didn’t know. Long enough, she guessed. She took several long, deep breaths to try and calm herself, failed completely. She tried to raise her arms, found they were still shaking a little. It wasn’t from adrenaline, that had long since disappeared. She was shaking from fear, a little. She knew her father would want an explanation, would want to know why his guard contingent was all dead – except for her. He would also want to know why she was relatively unharmed. She had a few nicks and scratches, and there was blood oozing from a small cut in her left cheek, but otherwise she was fine. That would warrant investigation.

Her father. There was a man she could live without seeing again. The woman held no love for her father, not now. Her father was one of the merchant princes in Sembia, a position of power and importance. He wasn’t part of the ruling council of merchant princes, but he was not far from their level of influence. He was not unkind towards family, and her position was evidence enough of that; but he was also known to be ruthless towards his opponents, and he didn’t take kindly to those who he perceived as betraying him. The woman knew she’d need to get moving, lest she fall foul of her father. Making her body move, though – that was the tricky part. Her legs didn’t want to obey her mind.

She was not an unattractive young woman, that much was certain. She stood just on five-and-a-half feet tall, and bore a strong frame for her size. Her hair was an auburn-red colour, shoulder-long, tied back in a low ponytail. She had pale skin, with a few freckles dotted along the bridge of her small nose. Her pale blue eyes were rimmed with tears for what she’d done – what she’d allowed to happen – and the weight of her decisions and their consequences haunted her expressions. High cheekbones were set under her eyes, and a pair of full red lips set just below her nose. Strands of hair had become untucked from behind her small, delicate ears during what was likely a short and rather one-sided battle. She was slender of frame, but toned and wiry in physique. She was very clearly feminine, tempered by years of rigorous physical training. She was by no means undesirable.

A drop of something hitting the back of her head made her look up. The sky was overcast, dark clouds lingering nearby. Another drop of water hit her face, followed by a third drop hitting her shoulder. Rain would be good, although it was only going to be a light rain and would not really hide anything. Besides, a few miles away the skies were clear, and the clouds looked to be bypassing this area. The campfire was almost extinguished, now, and the day was moving on. The longer she stayed here, the greater her chance of being discovered in an incriminating situation.

“Get up, Helen!” she growled at herself. “Move!”

The sound of her own voice seemed to rend the air around her, and it was enough to get her mind moving forward again. She rocked back on her heels then pushed herself to her feet, stopping to catch her balance as she cast a critical eye around the campsite. She knew she wouldn’t have time to break down and pack even one tent for the journey to…wherever it was she was going. She had no idea where she’d head, beyond going North and away from Sembia. She only really had time to grab essentials. The corpses would have to be left where they were. The men didn’t deserve to be buried properly, but the woman…Helen felt a twinge of regret for the woman’s fate, and that she couldn’t do anything to respect a person who was otherwise her enemy.

She uttered the command word to extinguish her sword, then spun on her heel and ducked back into the tent she’d emerged from what was only a short time ago – although it felt like an Age had passed since she’d emerged from her tent only that morning. Her pack – a magical pack, one that held a lot more than it looked like it could – was the obvious thing to grab. Her bedroll and blanket she quickly rolled up and secured to her pack. There was a change of clothes in the pack already, as well as a few days of trail rations. She had a whetstone in a belt pouch, she had a flint and tinder kit for lighting fires…her sword as now sheathed and secured at her left hip. The tabard…she paused, then hoisted it up and over her head and flung it into the far corner of the small tent. It was a part of her life that she was leaving behind. She made sure her pack contained the essentials for travelling, then pushed her arms through the straps so she could wear it properly.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then exited the tent. Time was no longer her ally; with each passing moment, the chances of a merchant caravan coming along the road increased. She went to each of the corpses, rummaged through their pouches and took the coins they carried. It would be enough. The rest of the gear she’d leave behind. She didn’t need it, and selling it might raise questions she didn’t want to answer. The life she’d had was over, now. It was time to make a new life for herself, hopefully one where she’d never have to encounter her father or her father’s men again.

She looked along the trade road she was camped near. She realised she couldn’t go along the road, not now. Any caravan or group would either ask her about the corpses she was leaving behind, or would surmise she’d been associated with them at some point. She’d have to go cross-country, at least for a while – maybe a day or two. The scrub was thick and would mask her passage well enough, unless a ranger was called to try and track her. She doubted that would happen any time soon.

Helen Targunsen hefted the pack on her shoulders, took another deep breath, let it out slowly…and pushed her way into the scrub beyond the trade road.

 

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Chapter 2 – The Disappearing

She spent most of the day following the Belduuk Road. Not travelling on the road, but just off it; enough that she could see the road, but not be easily seen from it. It slowed her down some, but she figured that a slightly slower pace was more than offset by the improved chance of not being spotted. She headed back towards Saerb, her caravan’s last stop. She’d left Saerb with her father’s caravan a couple of nights ago, now, having offloaded her father’s goods and wares in Saerb without incident. Three days ago the caravan had unloaded and traded, and had not picked up any new wares for the trip back to Selgaunt via Mulhessen. The return trip was supposed to go from Saerb to Mulhessen to Selgaunt, there to re-join her father’s house…but they’d never made it that far.

Perhaps fortunately, the Belduuk Road wasn’t so heavily travelled this day. It made her life a little easier. She paused for lunch, ate sparingly of her rations before cleaning up and continuing on her journey. She spotted a caravan coming along the road from Saerb towards Mulhessen just after she resumed from her break and she stopped moving, preferring to not make noise than keep moving and risk detection. It was a typical caravan, apparently – complete with a half-dozen largely-disinterested guards. She’d have taken them apart with relative ease if they’d seen her and attacked, she guessed, but she had absolutely no interest in fighting. The caravan moved on without interruption. They’d probably happen upon her abandoned camp by evening. She just hoped that no-one decided to track her.

Evening camp was taken a bit further away from the road, and her campfire was small and well-hidden. She had no tent, and all she could do was pray that it didn’t rain – her bedroll would keep her warm, but not dry. She ate sparingly again, drank from her waterskin that she’d been able to top up during the day, and lamented on the fact she had no company to speak with. But…this was a consequence of her choices. She was ashamed of her decision, but she also drew comfort from it. Fortunately, trudging through scrub at a quick pace was not a simple task, and sleep, when she settled for the night, came quickly.

“You’ve done well, mine child. Thy path is set in motion, and thy destiny is approaching. In time, travel thou with mine priest, and he will explain to thee what it means to be my servant and my instrument.”

Helen’s eyes snapped open. What the…? Had she actually heard that, or had it been a dream? She sat up and looked around quickly. It was dark, possibly the dead of night, cold and damp. The fire had almost burned itself out, with only a few glowing embers remaining in the small pit. She didn’t see anyone, couldn’t hear anything beyond the gentle breeze in the branches above her. Through the trees she could see clear skies and start above. In the distance a wolf howled, but that was a long way off as far as she could tell. No, she was seemingly alone. So what…?

The memory – or was it the memory of a dream? – was fading slowly. There had been images, but all she could remember of them was a silver gauntlet, right-handed, palm open and towards her. She knew it, but couldn’t place it. The words, though – they stayed with her. She didn’t recognise the voice, but there was something powerful and compelling about it. And comforting, too. The voice’s owner…she got the feeling that the owner of that voice somehow knew her, and that was a little disturbing. But it didn’t make her afraid, although she couldn’t say why. She also knew she’d never figure it out now – that was for later. Much later. She sighed softly and settled back into her bedroll, closed her eyes…and drifted back into a fitful sleep.

She reached Saerb on the third day of travelling, and she’d already decided that the city was not a good place to stop. She was known there, and if she returned on foot and without a caravan in tow, people would ask questions. The people in Saerb knew that she was headed back to Selgaunt via Mulhessen, a journey that should take a ten-day or more by wagon. No, going around the city was the best option. She didn’t even dare stop for provisions, although she could possibly trade with a caravan on the other side of the city. If she got lucky, she might even be able to trade her sword arm for travel and pay. A decent warrior was never a bad thing for a caravan to have. There were many warriors and soldiers better than her, it was true, but most of those would be in armies or militia, and not hiring out as caravan guards. She had to try. Sembia held nothing for her, now. It was barely home, and if she lingered and stopped being careful, it would likely be the place of her unmarked grave.

She skirted around Saerb, an exercise that took a couple of days all told. She was still avoiding the main roads, which made her journey a little harder, especially when Saerb was a meeting point of several roads through the region. Still, she managed to keep mostly away from the roads and travel in the scrub and light trees. Her rations were running low by the time she’d gotten around Saerb, and she’d by that point decided on her best course of action: travel into the Dalelands. Not the best option, true, but heading West to Cormyr would be worse for her – not because Cormyr was a darker place, far from it; but more because Sembians were generally not viewed well in Cormyr. Sembians weren’t highly regarded in the Dales, either, but better there than Cormyr. The Dales were generally loosely-organised and rather temperamental and fickle in nature; where Cormyr would ask her a lot of questions she didn’t particularly feel like answering, not yet.

Unfortunately, the closest Dale was Archendale, and Archenbridge would be her first stop once there. Given it was on the border with Sembia, Archendale was typically seen as corrupt and belligerent and on-edge, at least where Sembia and Sembains were concerned. In some ways it was just as bad as Sembia. But if she could get through Archendale, she’d have a good chance of leaving her life in Sembia behind. She knew it…she just had to try and make it work.

And there was also that dream that wouldn’t leave her alone, too. She was no closer to working out what that meant, for all that she’d had plenty of time to reflect on it.

A day after she placed herself on the trade road – it was known as The Dawnpost Road – towards Archenbridge, her luck changed. Would it be in her favour, though? She was travelling alongside the road, no longer trying to remain hidden, although she was still looking over her shoulder and behind her every so often. Just before lunch she spied a caravan approaching her, heading in the same direction she was. She took a deep breath, set her shoulders and pack, and stopped walking. This was a good an opportunity as any to try and gain passage to Archenbridge; as it drew closer she waved it down, hoping it would stop. Fortunately, it did.

“’Lo, stranger!” the man sitting atop the lead wagon called out to her. “There be a reason ye waved me down?”

“’Lo and well met, good sir,” Helen replied politely. Never a good idea to get a travelling merchant offside from the outset, especially when you were hoping to gain their aid. “Aye, I did wave ye down fer a reas’n.”

“Ye be Sembian, lass?” the man queried, noting her accent straight away. Helen nodded briefly.

“Aye, that I am, good sir,” she acknowledged. “I mean ye no trouble, though. I simply seek passage from Saerb to Archenbridge.”

“I do happen that I be travelling that way,” the man agreed. “But I got no room fer passengers.”

The young woman shook her head quickly. “If ye have no room fer passengers, that be fine, sir,” she agreed politely. “I c’n join on as a guard if ye’ve room fer one more.”

The man looked at her closely for a moment, then turned to address a guard behind him. Helen had noted that the guards were looking to be ready to drive her off, and there were only four of them that she could see. “Garth, we’ll stop here fer lunch,” he told the rough-looking guard.

The man called Garth didn’t look overly impressed, but he nodded just the same. “Aye, Master Calvin. Lunch it is.” He turned and headed to the back of the lead wagon – there was a second wagon behind – and started to pull out what were probably provisions. Master Calvin swung down from the wagon’s chair and moved to stand a few paces before Helen. That alone gave her a glimmer of hope, even as she endured the man’s eye roaming over her.

“What be yer name, lass?” he wanted to know suddenly.

“Hel- Helene, Master Calvin,” she replied quickly. She almost tripped up on her own name, having realised that she couldn’t do that without fear of being caught up with. “Helene…Jarraton, out of Saerloon.”

If Calvin noted the hesitation in her voice, he didn’t give any indication. Likely he didn’t really care. Everyone was corrupt to some degree in Sembia. “Well…Helene,” he replied, emphasising her name as if to indicate he didn’t really believe it. “That sword on yer belt…c’n ye use it, or is it jus’ fer show?”

“I c’n use it, Master Calvin,” she replied easily. That, at least, she could be honest about. “I c’n use it well enough to help keep yer wagons safe. Try me again’ yer guards if ye want t’ see.”

Calvin smirked darkly. “Tempting, lass. Tempting. But I’ll not be riskin’ the guards I have on one lone girl.” He paused to pinch his nose in thought. “Alrigh’, lass. I’ll put ye on. Standard pay of two gold per day, plus rations an’ a tent t’ sleep in.” He spat into the palm of his hand and held it out to her. “An extra guard won’ do me no harm.”

Helen smiled thinly, as she spat into the palm of her own hand and shook his hand firmly, enough that his eyes widened in surprise slightly as the woman’s unexpected strength. “Thank ye, Master Calvin,” she replied sincerely. “I promise I’ll be no burden t’ ye.”

Calvin grinned humourlessly. “We’ll see, lass. We’ll see.” He released the handshake and turned to face his guards, who’d set up a small area on the side of the road. “Garth…fix an extra place and meal. Helene here will be joining us at least as far as Archenbridge.”

Garth scowled slightly, but nodded. “Aye, Master Calvin. As you say.”

Calvin nodded, then returned his attention to the young woman. “Join us, then, Helene. Ye’ll be paid when ye leave us. Fer now…eat and rest.”

Helen – no, it was Helene, now – smiled to herself as she followed Calvin to where the other guards were starting to eat. She’d managed to get over the first hurdle.

 

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Chapter 3 – The Flight

She was always viewed with some degree of suspicion or mistrust as she travelled with Master Calvin’s caravan. Helen – she was struggling to get used to referring to herself as Helene – knew that she’d always be an outsider to the caravan guards, even though she was employed as one of them. They never fully accepted her, even though she worked hard – she helped set up the camp at night, was reasonably competent at preparing basic meals, took her turn at sharing watch, helped break down the camp in the morning. Everyone in the caravan came to know that she had some military training, possibly a lot of it – the woman had revealed that about herself during their short and shallow chats, but she didn’t go into any detail about her past. She deliberately didn’t speak much to anyone in the caravan, with the possible and rare exception of Master Calvin; she knew within herself that she was too close to Saerb to speak much about her past, that if she did speak about her past word would reach Saerb quickly, and from there to Selgaunt where her family lived. She didn’t need that hanging over her head; better to be quiet.

Master Calvin was thankful, if grudgingly, for Helene’s presence; the rest of the guards sniffed and shrugged.

Calvin also didn’t object to how hard Helene could fight in battle – something that presented itself a couple of days after she’d joined the caravan. By then, Calvin had revealed that the caravan was only stopping at Archenbridge to replenish supplies and do some basic trade; but the caravan would be moving on after that to Ordulin, further to the east and a little more north. Calvin was only planning in stopping in Archenbridge for a couple of days before taking the caravan on its way; Helen knew she’d have to decide what to do by then.

The caravan had pulled off the main road for the evening as the sun was starting to dip lower in the sky. They’d found one of the regular campsites that were dotted along the road, and decided to set up for the night rather than try to push on. Wagons had been secured, horses had been let out of their harnesses and tied loosely to nearby trees so they could graze, tents had been set up and a fire lit. All standard stuff, really. Watches were organised, with Helene taking the first watch. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that none of them hadn’t done a hundred times before…until a couple of hours into her watch, after everyone else had turned in, when she heard the cracking of a twig near to the camp. She was sitting with her back to the flame to try and minimise the chances of night-blindness – it was something she’d learned early on: if you sit facing the fire, your eyes take longer to get used to the darkness if an emergency arises.

Emergencies like the six men creeping into the camp, thinking she didn’t know they were there.

Training and experience reacted faster than she did. She sat still, but tightened her grip on her shield and sword, pretending to be unaware of the approach of the would-be robbers. She watched, out of the corner of her eye…waited…and, when the opportunity presented itself, she whispered the command word as she shot to her feet and swung her now-flaming blade at the man nearest her, catching him completely by surprise as the blade sliced through his armour and belly. The return swing made sure he’d never rob anyone else again, and she turned to face the remaining bandits, shield up and blade ready.

Having the camp watch apparently both aware of their presence and ready to act seemed to give the bandits a moment of pause – something that Helen’s honed instincts took advantage of. She quickly moved to the closest bandit and swung her blade twice, cutting the man down before he could raise his own blade to properly defend himself. By now the remaining four had regrouped and were starting to circle her…and there were obvious signs of stirring in the tents not too far from the fire. She was aware that the four might try to surround her, so she worked to keep her back to the campfire, forcing them to approach from her flanks – something she could watch, at least a little. She feinted, then struck out at one, carving a gash on his sword arm as she raised her shield to let it take an incoming attack. Other guards were now emerging from their tents and grabbing their weapons; it caused the bandits to hesitate, but Helen didn’t – and another man was down.

It was all the bandits needed to turn and flee, leaving the bodies of their companions behind. The battle was over before it could get ugly, and once things had settled, everyone went back to their tents, leaving Helene remaining on guard duty. She spent the remainder of her watch taking the coins from the bandits – unfortunately, not a lot of coin to be taken, which was probably why they were attacking in the first place – before taking their weapons and armour and stowing them on the wagons for sale in Archenbridge. The bodies she dragged a short distance from the camp, leaving them by a small group of trees not too far off. By the time she was done her watch was done and she was waking the next watch to start duty…then she entered her own tent, removed her armour, and settled into a restful sleep.

That was the only incident of note between Saerb and Archenbridge. The remainder of the journey was comparatively quiet. Calvin was typically quiet, the guards were typically dismissive of Helene, and Helene was her aloof self. She continued to work hard for the caravan master, but that was about it. After four more days of travel, Archenbridge was in sight, and Calvin caught up with Helene just after dinner on the eve of their arrival in the town.

“So, Helene…ye mean t’ leave us when we get t’ Archenbridge, still?”

Helene nodded quickly. “Aye, Master Calvin, I do.”

Calvin quirked his lips slightly. “No way I c’n talk ye out of it? Ye’ve got a good sword arm there, I c’n use a lass like ye on the guard.”

She smiled faintly at the man. It was tempting, but sooner or later he’d be heading back into Sembia, and there was no way she wanted any part of that possibility. “It’s tempting, Master Calvin, but no. I can’t take ye up on th’ offer, I’m ‘fraid.” She paused, then continued quietly. “There’s…people in Sembia I want t’ avoid, if possible. That’s all.”

Calvin wasn’t stupid, but he wasn’t going to pry. “Aye then, lass. Ye’ve got yer reason’s for leavin’ us, an’ while I’d like to have ye stay on, we’ve each gotta follow our own path.” He stopped, then gestured for the young woman to follow him to his tent. He ducked inside while she waited outside, and he emerged shortly after with a small pile of coins in his hand. “There ye go, lass,” he added, handing the coins to her. “Twelve gold coins, as agreed. When we get t’ Archenbridge t’morrow, yer free to go on yer own business. If ye need, I’ll give a reference for ye.”

Helene – she was starting to get used to the name, but knew it would still be a while before she became fully comfortable with it – took the coins and slipped them into her own pouch, then bowed her head respectfully. “Thank ye, Master Calvin. The reference would be mos’ kind of ye.”

“Ye’ve earned it, lass,” Calvin replied with a wave of his hand. “Until the morning, then.” With nothing further to say, the caravan master turned back into his tent, leaving Helene to go back to her small pile of gear. The tent belonged to the caravan, but she’d be able to purchase her own kit in Archenbridge…if leaving the caravan was what she wanted to do. She’d have to think on that before turning in for the night.

The next morning was quiet and routine – wake, rise, dress, eat, pack up, get moving. Helene knew what she was going to do when they arrived at Archenbridge in a few hours from now, and she relayed her decision to Master Calvin as they resumed their journey. Calvin was a little disappointed, she could tell, but he was in no way surprised. The last few hours of Helene’s journey were done in relative silence. When they arrived at Archenbridge the caravan was waved down by the guards at the gate. The guards looked a little curiously at Helene, but said nothing once Calvin vouched for her. Papers were produced and checked, coins changed hands, and the caravan was allowed to enter. The caravan headed towards what was ostensibly the approximate center of town, and the local marketplace; when it got there, the wagons stopped and the guards started unpacking and setting up a small stall.

Calvin took Helene aside and spoke with her. “Well, lass…this be th’ end of our little journey,” he noted quietly. “Ye been worth ye weight, like ye said.”

“Thank ye, Master Calvin,” Helene replied thankfully. “I’m grateful fer yer assistance.” She paused, then grinned faintly. “Yer a good man, Master Calvin.”

“Yeah, well…don’ let word get out,” Calvin replied darkly. “I gotta reputation t’ keep.”

“Yer secret’s safe wit’ me,” Helene agreed. “Any suggestions about where I go from here?”

“Aye, lass. I’ll take ye t’ The Black Horse Inn. I know th’ owner an’ barkeep, a man named Finn Blackstar. The inn’s good enough, mainly looks after those adventurer-types ye sometimes see an’ hear about. I’ll put in a good word fer ye, see if he could use th’ extra help. He’s a bit gruff, and little love fer Sembians, but if yer getting’ out o’ there, he’ll give ye a shot.”

“Righ’ now, I’ll take what I c’n get,” Helene agreed simply.

Calvin let his guards know what he was doing, then the two made their way through a couple of streets and round a few corners until they were standing outside what was very clearly The Black Horse Inn. Helene took a slow breath and let it out slowly as she followed Calvin inside.

It was getting close to lunch when the pair walked in, and there were a few tables already occupied. The common room was reasonably-well lit and was relatively clean; the bar ran almost the length of one wall, behind which was obviously the main kitchen and larder. A couple of serving wenches – one human, the other elven – worked the floor serving tables, and a large gruff human with barrel-like frame and a dour expression stood behind the bar. Calvin approached the bar, Helene in tow, and slapped a few coins on the table to get the man’s attention.

“Calvin,” the man greeted the merchant in a deep and slightly-raspy voice. “You’re in early.”

“Business fer th’ moment, Finn,” the merchant explained quickly, then turned to include Helene. “Helene Jarraton…Finn Blackstar. Finn’s the owner and barkeep…and Helene is a former guard of mine.”

“Former guard, ye say?” Finn queried, looking Helene over with a critical eye.

“Aye, former guard,” Calvin confirmed. “She joined me out of Saerb, worked her way here, but wants to head north into the Dales. I’m going east to Ordulin, so we’re partin’ ways here.”

“Fair enough,” Finn agreed. “But…what does any o’ that have t’ do wit’ me?”

“C’n ye help her out for work?”

“Ye what?” Finn looked somewhat surprised by the request.

“Have ye got things she c’n help out with?” Calvin repeated. “She’s lookin’ t’ make her own coin, and wants t’ move on with her life. If ye c’n help her out, ye’ll be doin’ me a favour.”

“Hmm…” Finn mused thoughtfully as he turned his attention to the young woman. “I don’ know. What c’n ye do, lass?”

“Fight, clean, fix things, cook a bit,” Helene said simply. “Name’s Helene, jus’ so yer know. I’m good with a hammer and nails and a saw, I can patch rooves and floors and the like. I c’n shoe horses. I’m capable in a kitchen, an’ I c’n clean up as ye need.”

“That it?” Finn wanted to know.

“Prob’ly not,” Helene admitted. “But them’s the basics. I c’n hone an edge on a blade, too, if it helps ye here.”

“It might,” Finn acknowledged. The barkeep stopped, then sighed heavily. “Alrigh’…I’ll put yer on fer two weeks as a trial. Ye prove yer worth, ye c’n stay on. If not…” He didn’t finish the though…all three knew what he meant. “Ten gold a week, plus food an’ a room. Ye get any tips, they’re yours. I’m not askin’ ye to wait tables, though…ye migh’ be better ou’ back, from what ye say o’ ye skills.”

“Works fer me, Finn,” Helene agreed readily. “I accept yer terms.”

“Good,” Finn noted with satisfaction. “Get yer gear, an’ I’ll get one o’ me girls to take yer to what’ll be yer room. Calvin an’ I gonna talk about the favour he’s gonna owe me fer this.” The two men grinned as Helene smiled faintly – this was clearly something between the two of them that she didn’t need to get involved in. She nodded her thanks to each man, then turned to leave the Inn, and she saw Finn wave one of the wenches over to the bar, hopefully to tell the girl that Helene would be joining them and to get her to a room to stay in.

Helene left the Inn and started back towards the caravan to get her belongings…such as they were. But she felt like a small weight was lifting off her shoulders, at least. This was the first step in getting away from her old life.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 4 – The Worker

The first week of work in Archenbridge was the hardest. Once Master Calvin and his caravan departed the town, Helene was on her own in a town filled with people who were, in some ways, as bad as Sembians, and who were suspicious of her because she was Sembian. She did her level best to not let it get to her…but it wasn’t easy. The Black Horse Inn was frequented well enough: mostly by locals who wanted a place to drink after a hard day’s work in their fields or stores; sometimes by caravans masters and crews who were stopping on their way to Saerb or Ordulin or, if travelling by boat, on their way to White Ford; and occasionally by adventuring groups that were passing through on their way to that next Big Adventure That Promised Lots Of Gold. There wasn’t a lot of call for adventuring groups out this way. Helene kept her ear open, though, listening for any shred of information that might give a hint as to what her father might be up to next.

Mostly Helene spent her time in and around the Inn. She became friendly with the half-elven serving girl, Sariel, who had the small room next to her own small room. Sariel was born to an elven father and human mother, and apparently the father had gotten a lot of heat from his own community and family for fathering a half-elf spawn into the world and left a few years after Sariel’s birth; Sariel’s mother did the best she could, but died a couple of years ago in Selgaunt. Sariel had scrounged up what coin she could and left Selgaunt by river, and her journey stopped when she’d reached Archenbridge. The half-elf girl – who was pretty and slim and fair-skinned, blonde hair to her chest, and only a couple of years older than Helene – found Finn in the Black Horse Inn and convinced the man to let her work, and she’d been there ever since. The money was good enough, said Sariel, and Finn was a fair man to work for, if a bit gruff most of the time.

For her own part, Helene was either working behind the bar in the Inn, or working behind the Inn. Working behind the bar was interesting to the young warrior, and it turned out to be a lot harder than it might have looked. There wasn’t a lot in the way of drinks to choose from in the Black Horse, but even a small number of selections made Helene think hard when several people all wanted drinks at the same time. Still, she picked the craft up well enough, and even came to realise that sometimes the customer wanted both a drink and someone to listen to them. She was quite happy to keep quiet while customers talked at her; it was a good way of finding out what was going on outside the town. She was in no hurry to leave it, not yet, but getting news was useful.

Finn also put her talents to use for fixing things up. She started in and around the Inn, fixing up broken steps and rails, steadying a wonky table or chair, patching holes in the roof, and occasionally fixing a door that got damaged by a drunk patron. She could also do basic stabling and grooming of horses, as well as cleaning and re-shoeing them as needed, and she proved her usefulness a number of times when customers came to the Inn with varied requests or problems.

One week became two, two weeks became a month, and Finn had by now grudgingly agreed to keep Helene on in her “handy-person” role. Her varied skills were not in doubt any longer, and she’d also taken to doing similar odd jobs around the town. The townsfolk still watched her, but no longer as closely as they had done when she’d first arrived, and with less suspicion.

And still that dream – the one that had spoken of her coming destiny – kept bouncing through her head, and she was no closer to figuring out what any of it meant.

So it was one day, after the breakfast rush in the Inn, that Sariel and Helene were working in the kitchen cleaning up that Helene decided to muster up the courage to ask Sariel to see what the half-elf could tell her…if anything. Helene had been at the Inn for nearly three months now, and she and the half-elven girl got on quite well, and Helene felt she could trust her friend to keep it to herself.

“Hey…Sariel…?” Helene began cautiously as they worked at washing and drying dishes, with Helene up to her elbows in soapy water, and Sariel wiping them dry and stacking the dishes in shelves. “Can I…c’n I ask ye somethin’?”

“Sure, Helene,” Sariel replied casually. The half-elf might have been born and raised in Sembia, but her voice carried the more-precise manners of her elven heritage.

“I, ummm…” Helene paused, clearly not sure if she should go on, but she decided she had to – needed to. “What do ye know of th’ gods?”

Sariel frowned slightly. “I know a bit,” she replied as she dried another plate and put in on the nearest pile. “Probably a bit more of the elven gods than the human ones, but…” She looked curiously at her friend. “Why do you ask?”

“Well…I’m no’ really sure,” the human girl admitted as she grabbed another dirty plate from the pile. “That is…well, I keep havin’ a dream. No’ every night, to be sure, but every so often. It’s not scary, more…comforting. But I don’ know how t’ start findin’ out, not ‘round here.”

“Well, that’s true enough of most things,” Sariel agreed with a chuckle. “Archenbridge isn’t exactly a font of knowledge and wisdom.”

“True enough, that,” Helene acknowledged ruefully. “Bu’ well…I figure…ye’re older than me, you know a bit more than some things than I do…maybe ye know somethin’ ‘bout th’ Gods?”

Sariel shrugged as she took the next plate to dry. “I can try. Ask away, and I’ll tell you what I can.”

Helene smiled thankfully. “Well…th’ thing is, this dream…it tells me that I’m approaching m’ destiny. It’s the same dream each time. Jus’ a deep an’ calming voice tellin’ me tha’ m’ destiny is comin’, and that I should seek ‘is priest out t’ talk an’ learn. An’ the dream ends with what I guess is th’ God’s symbol – a silver gauntlet, palm open an’ facin’ me.” She finished washing the plate, stuck it in the rack to dry, took the next plate to wash.

“That’s all it is?”

Helen nodded. “Yup. Nothin’ more than tha’.”

Sariel sighed softly. “Well…I’m not going to offer any great knowledge of the gods. But what mama told me before she died was that sometimes the gods can choose to speak with you, and often it’ll be in dreams. They don’t always make sense, but sometimes we make it work in how we try to find out, or something like that. Gods love to be cryptic, mama said. So…’your destiny coming’ could be just that, that you’re going to do something important. No idea what, of course, or who it’ll benefit, but probably this god is interested in what you’ll do, and if it’s not a scary dream, then it might be a good thing.”

“I go’ tha’ much,” Helene pouted. “I’m no’ tha’ stupid.”

Sariel smirked playfully. “Never said you were, Helene…although sometimes I wonder…” She laughed lightly as Helene flicked a fingerful of soap suds at her, then went on. “Finding one of his priests…a bit trickier. One of this god’s priests might come here one day, and you’ll talk with him or her. Or you could run into one of the priests when you’re taking a walk around the town.”

“Ye ain’t helpin’, Sariel.”

“Well…you’ve got to give me something, Helene,” Sariel pointed out carefully. She was well aware that Helene opening up like this was a big deal for her normally-quiet friend. “What else can you tell me about the dream? A person, a scene, a symbol…? You mentioned a symbol, I think...”

“A symbol,” Helene returned quickly. “Yeah…a symbol. Sort of…a gauntlet, silver, palm open, palm towards me. Once I see the symbol in m’ dream, th’ dream ends.” She sighed softly. “Tha’s it, I’m ‘fraid. Nothin’ more. Sorry ye can’ help me, bu’ it’s bin buggin’ me fer a while, now-“

“Hold on, hold on,” Sariel interrupted firmly. “That gauntlet – was there an eye in it?”

Helene thought hard for a moment, then shook her head. “No. Jus’ th’ gauntlet.”

The half-elven girl pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Hmmm. Torm, maybe? If the gauntlet had an eye in it, then might have been Helm, but no eye is possibly Torm.”

“Torm?” Helene repeated slowly, her brow furrowing in through. “I know…bits…no’ a lo’, though.”

“God of Duty and Loyalty, I think,” Sariel explained uncertainly. “Story has it that he defeated Bane during the Time of Troubles.”

“That was a while ago,” Helen observed.

“I know. But it might fit. No idea why he’d pick you, though, but I guess he has his reasons – if that’s who it is, of course.”

“Thanks, Sariel,” Helene replied sincerely. “It’s more than I ‘ad this mornin’, at any rate.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sariel told her friend. “Now…let’s pick up the pace before Finn wonders what the heck we’ve been doing in here all this time, shall we…?”

Helene laughed happily and nodded as she grabbed the last of the plates from the pile and scrubbed furiously.

She now had a bit more information about this dream, at least.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 5 – The News

A couple of months passed. Caravans came and went. Adventuring groups came through and disappeared. The season changed from Spring to Summer. Archenbridge’s population grew by a handful of babies. It was relatively peaceful in the town – no upheavals, no wars, no disasters. Life moved on, and the people of the town moved with it. Crops were harvested, fields were dug and sown – the famers knew their trade.

Helene grew with the town. She’d continued to work with Finn in the Inn, but she was slowly getting more requests from people outside the Inn as well. The people of the town had slowly come to accept that, Sembian as she was, she wasn’t the stereotypical Sembian they’d taken her for: she was showing herself to be generally kind, honest, trustworthy. She helped where she could, she did honest work, she was careful with her repairs, and she didn’t speak ill of anyone – which, in itself, might have said something. She’d now gotten used to the name Helene Jarraton as well, and if anyone in the town had any real criticism of her, it was that she was very guarded about her past. The townfolk could understand that, in a way – it was not unknown that people would travel out of a desire to avoid something, but curiosity couldn’t be denied.

If anything, her work in the town had helped her physique as well. She’d always been tough from her time training in her father’s private army, but honest labouring work had helped her muscles tone, and she’d lost a few pounds from the sweat her work brought out of her. For sure, she ached and grumbled each night when she climbed into her cot, but she felt good for it; and when she could get the chance for a hot bath, she revelled in it. She was finding…happiness, she supposed. She was content with where she was. She’d enjoyed her time in her father’s army, but that one event…it had opened her eyes. Sometimes a simpler, honest life was better, and she was accepting that it might actually suit her.

Except for that dream.

She still dreamed it on occasion, but she now had come to recognise that it was, indeed, Torm speaking to her in the dream. The dream never elaborated or expanded on why he was talking to her, or what he wanted of her; that would be too easy. But she was no longer in any doubt that it was Torm, God of Duty and Loyalty, patron of Paladins, that was speaking to her in her dreams. Now…if she could only work out why. She still had no idea what the god might actually want of her, and she’d never seen a priest of Torm to ask. All she could do, she supposed, was keep living her life as it was, and enjoy the fruits of her labour.

Unfortunately…nothing lasts forever.

Helene was working in the bar of the Black Horse Inn one evening, serving drinks up and listening to customers talk and generally minding her own business, when a couple of adventuring-types – they stood out, largely because of their swagger and the amount and type of gear they carried on their persons – entered the Inn and took a table near the bar. She was always curious about the adventurer-types – they tended to bring news from other parts of the Realms, and keeping an ear on their chatter was always handy. The pair, a male human warrior and a female elven mage, were soon joined by a caravan master; the man’s caravan had arrived earlier that day, and adventurers and caravan masters often swapped tales and stories – hell, a lot of adventurers got their start working caravan routes for experience and references before striking out on their own. So when these types got together and started talking, Helene listened; she had a personal interest, after all.

“What’s the word out there?” Warrior wanted to know.

“Get the next round and I’ll pass on something,” Caravan grinned. Warrior smiled and waved his hand, getting Sariel’s attention. The half-elven wench walked over, took their order, and waited for Helene to fix it up, which she did promptly. Wet tongues were often looser with news.

“Where did you travel from?” Mage began, once the drinks were served.

“I’ve come out of Sembia, on my way to Ordulin,” Caravan replied as he sipped from his mug.

“We’re out of the Dales ourselves,” Warrior offered candidly. “Just in from Archtassel.”

“Anything I should know from there?” Caravan asked curiously.

“No, not really,” Warrior said flatly. “It’s why we’re moving on. Pretty quiet up there, but the trade is good.”

“We’re heading into Sembia, in fact,” Mage added. “Saerb is the obvious first stop. Anything interesting going on?”

“Not in Saerb,” Caravan shrugged. “But the word in Selgaunt is that Michal Targunsen is getting jumpy. Rumour has it that he’s looking for his daughter. She’s gone missing, it seems.”

Warrior looked interested in that. “Oh? Any news on where she went?”

Caravan shook his head. “No, and that’s the thing. He’s not saying much openly, but if the rumours are right, he’s not happy.”

“Sounds like something we can look into, perhaps,” Mage suggested.

“Maybe,” Caravan agreed. “He’s keeping it generally quiet, but rumours are getting ahead of him.” He grinned wolfishly. “Like now.”

Warrior laughed quietly. “Rumours will do that to any plan,” he agreed. “Who is Targunsen, anyway?”

“Michal Targunsen,” Caravan sniffed. “A merchant prince in Sembia. Not on the ruling council, but pretty influential. You don’t want to cross him, just putting that out there. He’s got a bit of power and a lot of pull in Sembia.” He paused to drink from his mug. “A bit of a prick, if you ask me. Pushy and demanding, always has to have things his way. Hard to get a decent contract from him; he tends to use his own people and equipment for caravans.”

“Almost worth avoiding him, then,” Mage observed thoughtfully.

“I would,” Caravan noted. “But then…I’ve no interest in this rumour about his daughter, either.”

“What about the daughter?” Mage wanted to know.

“Don’t know much,” Caravan shrugged. “Her name’s Helen, I think, and she was part of his outfit at some point. Anything else…you’d have to talk with Michal – if you dare.”

“Hmmpf,” Warrior grunted into his mug. “Probably not worth the hassle, if this guy’s as difficult as you say. We can chase other things.”

“I would,” Caravan agreed.

The trio clearly had no idea that the woman behind the bar was listening closely to the entire exchange. Helene had been paying close attention, even though she was going about her business. The news that her father was actively looking for her…it sent a chill through her, made her heart sink. Archenbridge was too close to Sembia to be comfortable now. As much as she would have liked to stay here and keep with the honest life she’d managed to build, it wasn’t possible. If she stayed, she’d be found…eventually. No…moving on was the only option.

She didn’t leave immediately, of course – that would have been rather obvious. No, better to wait. Had she left straight away, it might have tipped the adventurers off, and if they chased her – well, the warrior she could possibly handle, but the mage would be difficult, especially when Helene was on her own. She went on about her business in the bar to finish off the night, did nothing out of the ordinary…but Helene just knew that Sariel had noticed something different about her human friend. The two women had gotten pretty close – as close as anyone in Archenbridge had gotten to Helene – since their chat a couple of months ago, but the half-elf didn’t say anything. Sariel knew that Helene would open up when good and ready, and not before.

The adventurers left Archenbridge first, the next morning. They settled their bill with Finn, then went to the general store and topped up on supplies and equipment. The mage might have been a bit disappointed if she was looking for elaborate spell components, but that couldn’t be helped. Helene watched as the two left on the Dawnpost Road and headed west towards Saerb. She knew the pair would make the trip in a week at most, less if they pushed. That gave her some time to work out what she’d do next, where she’d go…and then head off. But she didn’t want to linger too long, just in case there were already people on their way who were looking for her. Move quickly, and be damned; move too slowly, and be caught.

Timing and planning would be everything.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 6 – The Departure

The day after the adventuring pair left Archenbridge, the caravan packed up and left the town, heading east towards Ordulin as Helene had heard the caravan master say. She seemed to be in the clear to start her plan to move on – for now. While working for Finn, she’d saved enough coin to make sure she had plenty of equipment for travelling, for supplies…for added weapons, if necessary. The trick, though, would be to make her departure seem natural, and not brought on by anything. That would require slow and careful movement, but in the small town there would be nothing she could do to stop curiosity and rumour. Most in the town had accepted her by now, so there would be only a small chance of any unfriendly responses to her departure; still, going as quietly as possible could only be a benefit to her.

The question, though: how to get out without raising large amounts of attention? Once the caravan had left, she excused herself from the Inn for a while – there wasn’t much work there for the moment, anyway – and headed to the small dock to check the schedule on the river. Barges came along the River Arkhen every so often, and she knew one would be due soon…question was, when? She knew that sometimes larger vessels came up from the south – from Selgaunt – to Archenbridge ferrying produce and equipment for trade, but most of the river traffic travelled between Archenbridge and White Ford…and that would be her best way of leaving, she felt. A river barge didn’t exactly count as “leaving in a hurry”. She found out from the man who oversaw the docks that the next barge from White Ford was due in a couple of days, would stay to offload supplies and take on new produce for sale and trade, and would depart the day after to head back to White Ford – that would work. She could speak with the barge master when the vessel arrived and docked…but not while the barge was being unloaded or loaded. She’d have to work that out.

First though…tell Finn of her decision.

She found the man in the kitchen of the Black Horse, talking casually with the cook about produce and stock and the menu. She managed to get his attention for a moment, and spoke quietly when he nodded in her direction.

“Finn…c’n I speak wit’ you fer a moment…in private?”

Finn looked at the young woman blankly for a moment, then nodded his agreement before turning back to the cook. “Write up your list, Harmon, and give it to me tonight. I’ll see what the barge brings in when it docks.” The Inn owner then walked to Helene and gestured for the woman to follow him. The pair walked through the rear door to the kitchen and headed to the stable and found a quiet corner to talk in, where Finn turned to Helene expectantly.

“Wha’s up, Helene?” In a different life, Finn might have tried to bed Helene, but this was not that life.

“Finn, I…” she paused for a moment, considering her words. “It…it’s time for me t’ leave.”

Finn looked at Helene steadily while he processed that blunt statement. “I see. I can’t stop ye, o’ course, but I’d like ye t’ stay on if ye can.”

Helene shook her head slowly. “I can’t. I…I found ou’ somethin’ recently tha’ means it’s time fer me t’ move on.”

The man sighed softly. “Well…tha’s rough. I’d hoped ye could stay on – ye’ve got a good set o’ hands on ye, and ye c’n talk well t’ others.” He fixed the young woman with a firm gaze. “When’re ye plannin’ t’ leave?”

Helene met his gaze with an unwavering gaze of her own. “I checked at th’ docks already. There’s a barge comin’ in from White Ford in two days. I mean t’ be on it when it leaves th’ day after tha’ fer its return trip.”

“Fair enough,” Finn agreed reluctantly. “Come see me the mornin’ yer leavin’ so I c’n fix up ye pay when ye go.”

The young warrior smiled faintly. “Thank ye’ Finn. I’ll do that.” She paused again. “If it means anythin’, I don’t want t’ go…but I have t’.”

Finn looked into her face and saw her sincerity. “I’ll take ye at yer word, then. Ye’ve been good fer tha’, at least.” He held out his hand to the woman, and she took it in a firm grip. “It’s been good havin’ ye here, I’ll grant ye tha’. Didn’t know what t’ think o’ ye when I took ye on, but Calvin was righ’ t’ get me t’ take ye. Ye’ll do well when ye stop.”

“Thanks, Finn,” Helene replied sincerely. “For everythin’.”

“Don’t mention i’,” he grumbled gruffly, releasing the handshake. “Please.”

Helene chuckled softly. “Our secret, then.”

“Don’ do me no favours, lass,” Finn warned her warmly. “Make sure ye take some time t’ get yer gear in order before y’ go.”

“I will,” she agreed. “Maybe t’morrow, after the breakfast run.”

“Sounds good,” the barkeep nodded. “So…back t’ work wit’ ye, then.”

Helene again chuckled softly, then nodded and left the stables to return to the tasks she had lined up for the day. Not a lot of them, to be true, but they were there regardless, and she needed to get them done. She had no doubt that word would get around town quickly that she was leaving, but if it took time for the story to get around, that would be better.

For the remainder of the day, life went as normal in Archenbridge. People went about their business, traded, bought and sold, talked and laughed and swore, ate and drank, and, finally, slept. The next morning was likewise no different to the routine that had settled on the town many, many years ago. Helene was in the kitchen working with Harmon for the morning breakfast serving in the Inn and doing well at keeping up with the orders, while Finn was at the bar and Sariel was working the floor taking and delivering orders. Breakfast was always a bit quieter, but that was fine. Helene did notice, though, that Sariel was giving her a few odd and curious looks through breakfast when she came into the kitchen to relay or collect orders – had she heard already? Helene was sure she’d find out soon enough.

When the breakfast service was done and cleaned up, Helene went to the local store, Elgath’s Provisions. It was a bit of a catch-all store that typically had a wide variety of gear that would-be adventurers and explorers might need on their journeys. Gareth, the store’s owner, had come to know Helene well enough over the past few months; she’d even done a bit of repair work for him once. He was a little surprised that Helene was coming to make purchases but helped her out all the same as she made sure she was better-equipped for the journey she was about to embark on. She was in the store for over an hour as she ran a critical eye over the things she wanted – a small tent, a couple of healing potions just in case, a replacement blanket and bedroll, a new whetstone, a couple of daggers, a small hammer…and other, equally generic and basic things. It was only when she was finally satisfied that she’d covered all of the essentials that she paid Gareth and left the store. She’d collect her purchases the next evening, before he shut up for the day. Then Helene went back to the Black Horse to join for the lunch service, and kept busy for the rest of the day and into the night.

Sariel was waiting for her when she got to her room that night.

The half-elf followed Helene into the human’s room without saying a word. Helene might have been a little annoyed, but she had a pretty good idea what it was about. Instead she closed the door behind the two of them and waited for Sariel to settle and speak first; she stood by the door and looked at her friend expectantly.

“You’re leaving us, aren’t you?” It was, technically, a question, but the lack of real inflection in Sariel’s voice made it more like a statement. Helene nodded briefly.

“Aye, I am.” There was no point in beating around the bush, not with her friend.

“Why? When?” Sariel’s voice was still flat, and Helene couldn’t work out if the half-elf was annoyed or upset.

She sighed softly as she tried to work out how to reply honestly without revealing the truth of that dark event that had led to her being in Archenbridge. “Th’ adventurers that were here a few days ago-“

“Is this to do with that dream you told me about?”

“I…I don’ know,” Helene admitted with a helpless shrug of her shoulders. “It might be. But those Adventurers…I overheard them talkin’. What they talked about…I gotta be goin’.” She silently pleaded that her friend wouldn’t ask too much more. “There be a barge comin’ in from White Ford tomorrow. When it leaves the next day, I mean t’ be on it.”

Sariel frowned slightly. “I…okay. I don’t like it. You’re a good person, you work hard around here, and you’re my friend. Can’t…whatever it is you’re caught up in be worked out?”

“I wish it could,” Helene replied sadly. “Bu’ this one…no. Not now, anyways. One day, per’aps.”

“Have you told Finn?”

Helene nodded. “Told ‘im yesterday. I’ll finish up t’morrow after dinner service, catch up wit’ ‘im the nex’ mornin’ fer my final pay, then I’ll be on th’ barge an’ headed to White Ford.”

“Will we see you again?”

That gave the human woman a moment of pause. Would she? She’d like to, but whether events would allow it… In the end all she could do was shrug her shoulders again. “I don’ know, Sariel. I’d love t’ see you all again, but…”

The sadness on Sariel’s face was getting pretty obvious. “Have you got everything you need for your journey?”

“I will ‘ave. Gareth’ll ‘ave th’ last o’ my things tomorrow near dinner. I’ll get them then.”

“I’ll help you pack up.” Sariel hesitated, then rushed forward and hugged Helene tightly. “I’m going to miss you, Helene.”

It took a moment for her to recover, but Helene quickly returned the embrace. “I’m going to miss you, too, Sariel.”

The two women held the embrace for several seconds before Sariel pulled away…and the half-elf was suddenly at a loss for words. Finally, Helene spoke to break the silence.

“Well…still gotta sleep an’ work tomorrow…”

“Yeah…I know.” Sariel didn’t want to leave, Helene was pretty sure of that, but they both knew she had to. “Good night, Helene.”

“Good nigh’ Sariel.” The door was opened, Sariel quietly left the room, and the door was closed again. Ten minutes later Helene was in bed; five minutes after that she was sleeping.

The next morning was just as it had been any other morning – if a bit quieter on account of it being Helene’s last day. A few of the regulars had already heard – how, Helene didn’t know – but she graciously accepted their farewells and prayers regardless. Finn took her aside briefly after breakfast and, after extracting a promise from the human woman to not read it until she was clear of Archenbridge, handed Helene a tri-folded parchment that was for the barge master’s eyes, supposedly to help Helene on her way.

The barge arrived a little later than expected, but it arrived and docked without incident. It spent a couple of hours unloading its wares, and once it was fully unloaded Helene approached the barge master. The two spoke at length, and Helene handed the parchment to the woman, who took it, read it, raised her eyebrows slightly, handed the parchment back, and grudgingly agreed to take Helene on as part of the guard contingent to White Ford. The acceptance of the barge master gave Helene a glimmer of hope that she’d be on her way to getting beyond her father’s reach.

She returned to Elgath’s Provisions just as the sun was starting to set and found that Gareth had managed to obtain and pack what she’d ordered. Helene checked to be sure that everything was present and accounted for and was not disappointed. She thanks the man sincerely, then took her parcels back to the Black Horse Inn and started to pack everything away as best she could. After the dinner service – which went quite smoothly – Sariel joined her and helped her friend complete her packing. The two talked for a little while before they each retired for the night.

The next morning Helene dressed for travel and tidied up her room. She wasn’t coming back here for a while, if at all. She dressed in her armour, Matchstick sheathed on her left hip, shield hanging loosely in her left hand, pack slung over her shoulders. She went down for breakfast, now a paying customer, and ate as well as she dared. Finn met with her after breakfast, his normal grumpiness somewhat softened by the moment.

“Righ’, lass…here ye go,” he declared, handing her a small pouch of coins. “Yer final pay, as promised. Did ye hand me parchment to the barge master?”

Helene took the coins with a grateful nod. “Yeah, I did. She looked a bi’ surprised, bu’ took me on as part of ‘er guard.”

“Good t’ hear,” Finn acknowledged. “Yer a good lass, an’ if ye c’n handle tha’ blade as well as Calvin says ye c’n, ye’ll do well.”

“Hmmm…” Helene hummed, not sure how to respond to that. “Well…I should go…the barge will be leavin’ shortly. Ummm…thanks for everythin’, Finn. I know, I said it before, but I’m sayin’ it again.”

“Jus’…be careful, lass,” Finn replied solemnly. “An’ I want ye to come back and visit when ye c’n, ye hear?”

“I’ll try,” Helene agreed, knowing she might not be able to keep that promise. “I…I’ll be on my way, then.” Farewells were awkward when you didn’t want to leave, but had to anyway.

“Gods be wit’ ye, lass,” Finn offered, then nodded his head to the woman and walked away slowly.

Helene sighed softly and made her way to the docks. Ten minutes she was on board the barge, waiting for it to throw its ropes and be on its way. She had no idea what was going to happen next, but she was as ready as she could be – she hoped.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 7 – The Talk

The barge trip was slow-going, but steady. Moving against the general flow of the river – slow and gentle as it was – was always going to slow the barge down, if only a little compared with its rate when heading towards Archenbridge. Still, Helene was happy to be on board the barge and moving away from Sembia, even if that movement wasn’t always quick. It was just the sense of movement that was enough to satisfy her nerves over her father’s activities.

Helene stood at the bow of the barge and let her gaze drift along the landscape before her – riverbanks lush with reeds and thick green grass and trees dotted along the banks, blue skies ahead with only a few light clouds, a few birds – one of which was a wonderfully-bright red and green parrot – flying about and darting between the trees. To the east were slowly-growing and steep cliff faces; to the west were the Marching Mountains. The sun was on her face and helping her relax, there was a gentle breeze blowing through her hair, and she was warm and relaxed. She was feeling the loss of Sariel in particular, but she knew she’d made the right decision to move on. She didn’t know how she knew that, exactly, but she knew it.

For the most part, the crew of the barge seemed to be content to let their new guard stand watch at the front of the barge. To the crew, she seemed to bring a sense of confidence with her. She wasn’t dressed like a typical barge-guard, in leather armour with a rickety shield and a short sword for a weapon. No, Helene’s breastplate armour, larger shield and well-sed blade gave the crew a bit more confidence that she was actually capable. They didn’t know her, and weren’t exactly going to be able to spend a lot of time talking with her, but the woman seemed to have an aura about her, like she knew exactly what she was doing. It helped.

How long had she been standing on the bow of the barge? She didn’t know. All Helene knew was that, for the first time in a long while, she actually felt free…and for one moment, there was a definite, tangible sensation of inner peace. It was an interesting concept, to be free – no orders, no expectations, no requirements, no duties. Well…other than being a guard on a barge, and the expectations that came of that role. But she could walk away from the task once they reached White Ford, and then her freedom would be complete – so long as she could pay for food and lodging. She sighed softly. True freedom was only fleeting, in reality.

She found her mind wandering to the parchment Finn had given her. It was a reference, he’d told her, but she hadn’t even looked at it. The barge master, a human woman named Thora Hayfield, had looked at it and reacted with surprise. She was curious, she knew. She had to know what Finn had written. She pulled the parchment from her pouch, carefully unfolded it, and scanned the words.

To Whom It May Concern,

This is to verify that I have known the bearer, Helene Jarraton of Saerloon, for a sufficient period of time. During that time she has worked in my employ. I have found her to be honest and trustworthy, reliable and filled with integrity. She has performed all tasks and duties without complaint, and she has treated all people with respect and dignity.

She came to me with a high recommendation for her capability in a fight, so I pass that recommendation on; I have no reason to doubt the accuracy of that recommendation.

Should you choose to take Helene on in your company and venture, I have no doubt she will reward your faith in her.

(Signed)
Finn Blackstar, Owner, The Black Horse Inn, Archenbridge.

She sighed to herself and folded the parchment up carefully before returning it to her pouch for safe-keeping. The barkeep hadn’t needed to write that…but she was grateful he did. She also felt a little guilty about it, given that part of it was based on a lie. She felt a tear run down her cheek from both the kindness in Finn’s words and from her guilt over the lie that brought his words to her. She hated that she was lying to others about her past, but…the truth would only bring pain and possible death.

She was startled slightly by footsteps behind her, and the gentle clearing of a throat. She turned to find Thora – about the same height as Helene, maybe ten years older, with long blonde hair, deep brown eyes, and a much fuller figure – standing behind her, clearly interested in conversation. Helene decided to oblige her, and she turned to face the other woman.

“Yes, Thora? How c’n I ‘elp you?” she asked politely.

Thora stood there for a second with an amused expression on her handsome face before shaking her head slightly. “Nothing much. Just thought we could chat, is all. I don’t get a lot of female conversation when I’m working, as you might imagine.”

Helene flushed faintly and gave a helpless chuckle. “I don’ know tha’ I’m going to be much good t’ ye there. I’m no’ exactly a girly-girl.”

“That doesn’t matter, really,” Thora shrugged. “Sometimes it’s nice to just have another woman to talk with, even if we don’t talk ‘girl stuff’.”

“I guess so,” Helene conceded. “So…’ow long ‘ave ye worked this barge?”

“Ten years, I think,” Thora replied. “It was my husband’s and I worked it with him, but he died from sickness a few years ago and I’ve been working it on my own ever since.”

“I’m sorry,” Helene replied sincerely. “Must be ‘ard workin’ th’ barge on yer own.”

“It can be,” Thora agreed. “But I’m used to it, now. Plus I can get a bit of…womanly satisfaction…from the crew, although never when I’m working.”

That caused Helene to flush deeply. She hadn’t been prepared for that, and the reaction caused Thora to laugh lightly.

“I didn’t upset you, did I, Helene?”

The warrior shook her head. “No, no’ at all. It’s just…I didn’t expect tha’ from ye.”

“You’re not a virgin are you, my dear?” Thora asked in a conspiratory tone.

Helene’s flush deepened. “No, of course n- I mean, tha’s personal!”

That only made Thora laugh harder. “Oh, Helene…you just know how this conversation is going to go now, don’t you?”

She sighed and nodded slowly. Helene knew damned well what was likely coming next. “Yeah…I think I do.”

“You haven’t done anything much, I take it?” Thora was enjoying herself, now that she’d found a fresh target to tease.

“No…no’ really. Certainly no’ recently.”

“No-one in Archenbridge took your fancy? I know there are a few strapping young men there who’d might have liked a chance with you.”

Helene sighed heavily, her head dropping to her chest. “It’s no’ tha’…well…not entirely. It’s just…I don’ want t’ risk being…wit’ child.” She paused and looked up again. “Definitely don’ wan’ tha’ risk now.”

“Hmmm…” Thora paused as a thoughtful expression appeared on her face. “Have you ever heard of Nararoot?”

Helene’s face screwed up slightly. “No…I can’ say I ‘ave.”

“It might help solve one of your…problems,” Thora explained quietly. “Nararoot is a pretty common herb, really. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it before now. But it’s easily found, and fairly easy to cultivate…or purchase from most places that sell common herbs.” She stepped forwards and placed a hand lightly on Helene’s shoulder. “It’s really quite simple: you put a few shavings of the herb in a cup of boiling water, add a spoon of honey, then drink it. It will keep you…protected…for a few days, although I’d wait a day after drinking it to be sure. The honey’s for flavour; on its own, Nararoot is rather bitter. You could simply chew on it, but your tongue will hate you for it. You should at least consider it, hon.”

Helene was silent for a little while. While she had engaged in sexual activity, it had been a while ago, and it hadn’t been casual or frivolous; also, she couldn’t say she remembered it being anything special. She just hadn’t gotten a lot out of it: a bit of pleasure, sure; it had felt good, but she’d never gotten to That Point that she’d heard others talk about. Maybe she’d been missing something, but sex just hadn’t been something she’d given a lot of thought to. Still, she nodded her head slowly. “Maybe. Someday. In th’ future.”

Thora gently clapped Helene’s shoulder before removing her hand. “Good. We’ll be at the village of Ramblecoats in a few hours. Once we’ve docked, I’ll take you to the local herbalist and she can see that you’re…supplied.” With that, and a small and playful chuckle, Thora turned and headed back towards the rear of the barge.

Helene was content to remain at the front of the barge for now, and, as she turned to once more face the front of the boat, she was now wondering just what she’d gotten herself into by joining the vessel’s crew.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 8 – The River

The barge arrived at the village of Ramblecoats late in the day, and quickly docked and secured itself for the night. Some of the crew immediately set about opening a small stand where folks could come and trade for stores carried on the barge, while other crew made a sort of guard around the docks area to guide would-be customers and keep an eye on things. No-one expected any trouble here; Ramblecoats wasn’t exactly a hotbed of bandit activity, and the barge was unlikely to be carrying anything new, just more of the same. Still, the precautions were made, and the villagers accepted it and just went about their business as if the precautions weren’t there.

Thora was good to her word, too; once the makeshift market was in place, she took Helene to the local herbalist’s store. It was almost a store running inside the person’s home…or maybe the owner lived in the back of the store, Helene couldn’t tell which. But the herbalist was polite and knowledgeable, which made Helene feel more at ease. The three women talked at length about various topics, not least of which was Helene’s presence, before they finally got to the reason Thora and brought the young warrior to the store in the first place: nararoot. It was clear that Helene was a little embarrassed about speaking of such things publicly, but the herbalist didn’t bat an eyelid; she just bundled up a small supply of the root, and handed it over once the necessary coins were in her hand. They continued talking casually for a little while after that, before Thora and Helene gave the herbalist their thanks and departed for the barge. On seeing that the barge and stall were safe and in good hands, the two women headed for the local Inn to eat, talk and sleep.

By mid-morning the next day the barge was again underway. Trade had been okay, Thora had said, enough to keep her in business. The crew had packed up their makeshift market with practiced efficiency. Once all crew were accounted for and on the barge, Thora gave the order to get underway.

There were two more villages along the river, and they were reasonably close to each other. Nairning first, then Lady’s Belt. At each location the barge arrived late afternoon, unpacked wares and set up a makeshift stall to trade at, and trade and bartering would be had. Thora would oversee trade a little, more to make sure that she could keep track in her head of what came and went, but otherwise didn’t get very involved. Apparently Thora was content to let her crew do the small trade stops, while she handled the bigger stops of Archenbridge and White Ford. Helene wasn’t going to question it; she was a guard on her first – and, hopefully, only – trip with the barge, and she reasonably figured that Thora and her crew knew what they were doing by now. At each of the villages Thora and Helene went to the local tavern to eat and talk and sleep, while the crew stayed with the barge and engaged in whatever revelry they cold find. Thora clearly trusted her crew to look after the barge and its wares.

After Lady’s Belt was the final leg to White Ford. It would take three days to make the journey, Thora told the young warrior, and they’d stop each night – there were small waypoints the barge could be secured to for night-time to ensure it didn’t drift away. Thora’s husband had put the waypoints in place just for the purpose of securing the barge. The journey was slow, hampered a little by the gradual narrowing of the river, in places, and by the slowly-increasing pace of the river’s flow…that they were travelling against. Thora and Helene talked a little as they made their way to White Ford; they mainly spoke of more general things, and only once returned to talk of a vaguely-sexual nature…a conversation that, at times, made Helene blush deeply from Thora’s directness.

The day they arrived in White Ford wasn’t a good one; the clouds had come over, and a light rain was falling steadily as the barge finally secured itself to White Ford’s docks. The day was overcast and, generally, wet, but at least there was no wind of note that could push the rain anywhere; without a wind blowing, the day was sort-of mild, even with the rain. It was later in the day by the time the barge had been properly secured to the dock, and Thora decided to hold off on trade until the following morning – or at least until the rain stopped. The crew didn’t look too upset by that decision; setting up store in the rain was never fun, although they’d have done it if asked. Instead, they crew secured the barge and headed to the local – and only – tavern and Inn.

Once inside, Thora gestured for Helene to join her by the fire. The two women pulled up a chair each and sat a short distance from the flames – close enough to be warm, but not so close to get too hot.

“So, Helene…this is where we part ways, I guess,” Thora began, as she pulled her boots off and angled her feet towards the fire.

“Aye…that be righ’,” Helene agreed slowly.

“Don’t suppose I could convince you to stay on?” the older woman asked hopefully, although her expression was a little mischievous and relayed that while she might like a positive answer, she didn’t expect one.

Helene smirked softly. “No…’fraid not. There’s…people…I want t’ avoid.”

Thora nodded her understanding. “A shame. It’s been nice having another woman to talk to, even if only for a short time.”

“I’ll agree t’ tha’,” Helene replied honestly. Finding out about nararoot in particular had been, while unexpected, certainly helpful. “But I have t’ be movin’ on. Any ideas on where I might go from ‘ere?”

Thora thought for a moment as she wriggled her toes in front of the fire. “I think your best bet will be Highmoon, to the north. Take the trade road out of White Ford. It’ll take you two, maybe three days on foot to get there.”

“Thank ye, Thora,” Helene replied appreciatively. “This trip has been mos’…interestin’.” She relaxed slightly, let her legs stretch out a little towards the fire.

“It certainly has, my dear,” Thora agreed with a nod of her head. She paused, then reached into a pouch she had hidden on her person. She opened it, counted out a handful of coins, and handed them to Helene, who took them silently. “There…your pay as agreed. I’m glad the trip was uneventful – it mostly is on this river, anyway – but it’s been good having you around.”

Helene added the coins to her own pouch and nodded briefly. “It’s been interestin’ seein’ how ye operate,” she observed after a few moments of silence. “Ye and yer crew seem t’ know each other well. That speaks well o’ ye. I wish ye nothin’ but the best in th’ future.”

“And you as well, Helene,” Thora noted. “Now…let’s have one last dinner and girly-talk together before bed, shall we?”

The two women got up and found a table they could sit at, and they were soon eating and talking happily. They drank a little and swapped tales, with Helene being careful about the information she revealed. Finally Helene excused herself and went to her room, and she slept fitfully. The dream appeared to her again in her sleep, but otherwise she was undisturbed. The next morning Helene awoke early and, after dressing and freshening up, found Thora already downstairs eating breakfast; she joined the older woman for one last meal before they bid each other farewell, after which Helene left the inn. She found the trade road north, as Thora had told her, and, with a deep breath, started her trek towards Highmoon.

With any luck, she’d be able to lie low for a while there.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 9 – The Trekking

She made good time along the trade road. It wasn’t a made road in that it had tiles and pavers along it, but it was a cleared track, well-worn, packed and hardened over time. Trees had been cleared away from what was, really, an extravagant trail; on each side of the trail, which was wide enough that two wagons could travel side-by-side, there was maybe ten feet of cleared grass, wide enough for a camp to be set, or for a spot to rest and have a meal. Beyond the cleared areas were trees and woods – not thick or dense, not by any means, but enough to provide a bit of cover from the road if one wanted it. The ground was still damp from last night’s rain, and the day was a little chilly to start, but it quickly warmed up in the summer’s heat. Still, the foliage around her would help her stay a little cooler; she had no desire to make this particular trek on her own without wearing her armour. That just seemed…stupid.

The day passed uneventfully; other than the sounds of nature around her, she didn’t see anything or hear anyone. She was on her own, free to travel as she wanted, and the peace and serenity of her surroundings really drove home that feeling of inner peace that she’d felt briefly on the barge several days back. That inner contentment was something that had been lacking in her life of late, but feeling that again…it was wonderful. She stopped on the side of the road during the day and broke into her trail rations for lunch, and took advantage of a nearby creek to top up her waterskin, then moved on; when daylight faded she moved off the road and into the trees a little way, set up her tent and made a small campfire for herself. Her night was uninterrupted; she slept in her clothing, and kept her armour and sword and shield near to her in the tent just in case. When she awoke the next morning she felt refreshed; she had a small breakfast of trial rations, packed up the camp, and moved on towards Highmoon.

She knew a little of Highmoon from her studies in her early life. It was the capital city of Deepingdale, she knew, and was reputed to be a very harmonious city of humans and elves and half-elves. It was one of the more important trading hubs in the Dales, although her own family didn’t do a lot of business there; knowing that her family’s trading tendencies didn’t generally involve Highmoon would help her a lot in her bid to remain hidden from her father. Highmoon’s population was last counted to be in excess of seven thousand people, and was fairly-well defended and protected. If she could find stable work there, she should be able to keep a low profile for some time.

When night finally came, she again set up camp off the road, nestled between a few trees that worked to form a natural barrier to the road. Dinner was a lightly-cooked meal of a few pieces of salted meat with a few handfuls of nuts and berries and washed down by a few mouthfuls of water; when she was done and sated she packed away and sat against a tree next to her tent. She found herself thinking about what she and Thora had last talked about, and she wondered about…it. Should she…? Well…there was no-one around, and she should try it at least once to find out, so maybe… Even though she was alone, she still felt her cheeks flushing as she slipped into her tent.

Her armour was already removed and sitting in one corner of the tent, along with her pack and sword and shield. She lay down on her bedroll and felt… a little awkward. How to start…? Maybe by not thinking and just doing. She shuffled slightly and tried to relax, as one hand slid up her torso, pushing her tunic up and revealing a taut, toned abdomen, muscles faintly showing under her creamy skin. Further the hand pushed, sliding the tunic higher and exposing her small and firm breasts – delicate, perky mounds capped by tiny and dark-red nipples that quickly stiffened in the cool night air. She gently rubbed her breast with her fingers, the fingertips lightly teasing the flesh of her breast, and she heard herself gasp softly when she accidentally flicked her nipple to cause a small jolt of delight wash through her. She tried it again, this time deliberately rubbing the nipple, and gasped again when she felt more pleasure. So what if…?

Her other hand slid down, pushed inside her pants, slid under her shorts, kept going until her fingers found the covering of sparse hair of her groin. It was strange but…a little familiar. She was not the first to touch her like that, but this was the first time she’d touched herself like this. Slowly her fingers pushed through the soft hair until they found the top of her mound, kept moving along her mound to the delicate folds between her thighs. She felt her legs part slightly to make it easier for her fingers to access her sex, felt her fingers begin to rub along her damp lower lips, a slow and teasing-yet-firm rub that sent gentle shockwaves of pleasure through her frame. Her eyes closed slowly as her fingers continued teasing and rubbing both her breast and sex, slowly drawing her pleasure out of her body. Her legs raised slightly, bringing her womanhood forward and upward, and she was sure she could feel her sex opening slightly as she moved.

The hand at her breast was no longer rubbing but had changed to gentle cupping and squeezing as the hand between her thighs began to more-forcefully rub at her sex. Then her fingers found something that was especially, shockingly pleasurable, just at the top of her sex, and a loud groan escaped her lips as her back arched slightly from the sudden increase in delight her body was feeling. As if driven by a will that was no longer her own, her fingers started to focus on that point, rubbing firmly, alternating between circling and rubbing and flicking, each change in movement bringing a new layer of delight to her toned frame. She could feel the pleasure increase, her hips slowly beginning to writhe as they sought to get more of what her hand was trying to draw from her, and a warmth began to spread through her, starting between her hips and coursing through her gently.

Then a finger pushed into her tight and slick tunnel, and she moaned quietly to herself as she was sure she could feel her inner muscles trying to clamp down on the fingertip that had penetrated her. The finger pushed deeper, probed back and forth, circled around inside her, letting her feel the gentle roughness inside, and she sucked in a breath of…she didn’t know what.

“Sariel…”

Why had she whispered that name, why now? Did she want Sariel to be here, sharing this moment with her? Maybe. All Helene really knew, though, was that she was close, very close to…something… Her fingers found that aching point above her folds and rubbed a few more times, gently pinched and squeezed, then…

A long, low moan sounded in the back of her throat as her body arched sharply upwards, her body tensing and trembling gently with an intense release, her legs suddenly and firmly clamping closed around her hand. Her lips were closed, keeping the moan to a loud hum as she felt the pleasure push through a peak and then release with an intensity she’d never felt before, taking all of her strength and energy with it as the pleasure seeped through her and out of her over several long moments. Finally she was done and drained, and her body relaxed onto her bedroll once more.

It took a few moments for her to open her eyes, and for a little while all she could feel were small aftershocks of pleasure as she came down from that peak of intense pleasure. Without thinking about it she removed the hand from between her thighs, brought the fingers to her lips and let her tongue flick out and taste several times. It was…bitter-sweet, she thought, and not at all unpleasant. At the same time she caught her own scent as the aroma of her sex drifted up from her fingers, and she recognised that she smelled…nice – nothing fantastic or intoxicating, but definitely far from repulsive. Then she realised that she’d just tasted herself, and a flush rushed to her cheeks again…but she was in no position to move at the moment. The tension had gone, leaving behind a satisfied glow that suffused her entire being. A few moments later, when she’d recovered enough energy to once more move, she gently wiped her fingers on the outside of her shorts, between her thighs, tidied up the rest of her attire, settled in her bedroll and blankets, and drifted into a very deep and restful sleep.

She wasn’t weary when she woke, far from it – she felt very refreshed and rested, better than she had in a long while. She was still very confused as to exactly why she’d whispered Sariel’s name while in the heights of her pleasure last night, but she had no answers for that. All she could do was eat breakfast, fix up her attire and dress herself in her armour and weapons, pack up her camp, and continue her trek towards Highmoon. She estimated she’d reach the small city by around lunchtime…and then she’d see what happened. With any luck, she’d be able to make a home for herself, as she’d done in Archenbridge.

With Finn’s reference to help her, she might just be able to pull it off.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 10 – The Refuge

As she'd expected, Helene reached the outskirts of Highmoon around lunchtime that day. She'd already walked past a few farms on her way to the city – indeed, she'd discovered that she'd actually camped only a couple of miles from a farm the previous night – and the city's walls had come into view soon enough. The city wasn't fortified, but it was protected and defended; she already knew that, but now she could see it. As she approached the city gates from the south and west, she could see guards on the battlements, as well as a pair of guards at the gates proper; she had absolutely no doubt she'd be stopped and queried on her way in…and, as she drew closer, the guards at the gates proved her correct.

Both guards at the gates were human, males, dressed in studded leather armour and carrying spears and shield, with a sword at their hips; one guard was slightly taller than the other with short and straight dark-blonde hair; the shorter guard had a thick mop of curly brown hair on his head. Blondie stepped forward and waved for her to stop; she did as requested. Never a good way to get in a city's good graces by ignoring the first guards you see.

"Greetings and welcome to Highmoon, traveller!" Blondie greeted Helene.

"Well me' t' ye," Helene replied courteously with a slight bob of her head.

"What brings you to Highmoon, may I ask?"

"I come seekin' a place t' stay an' a place t' work," Helene told the man honestly. It wasn't lost on her that while Blondie was talking to her, Brownie was looking at her intently, as if trying to gauge her sincerity and intentions.

"And where have you travelled from to get here?"

"I've walked up from White Ford," she answered simply. "Before tha' I travelled Thora's barge from Archenbridge, where I've been workin' th' past five months er so."

"You're Sembian, miss?"

Helene nodded. "Aye, I am."

"May I ask your name?"

She sighed softly. "Helene Jarraton out o' Saerloon." Hopefully this guard wouldn't know anything about Saerloon…or at least not enough to counter her. It was also a little saddening that her fake name was now just rolling off her tongue these days.

Blondie pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Can't say I know a lot about Saerloon, but I'll take you at your word. So long as you're not here to disturb the peace, then I see no reason to not let you pass." He took a couple of steps to the side, clearing the way for Helene to enter.

"Thank ye, sir," Helene acknowledged thankfully. "If I migh' ask…mos' recently I've worked a' th' Black Horse Inn in Archenbridge, so tha's wha' I'd like t' keep doin', if I can. Wha' inns an' taverns are there here tha' I might ask at fer work?"

Blondie smiled faintly. "There's the Oak and Spear, but that's more of an Alehouse and not an Inn so much. You can ask there, but you'll still need your own place to stay if you're intending to be here for a while. Otherwise, there's The Rising Moon Inn – on the north side of the city, but can be a bit rowdy on occasion. Failing that, there's The Silver Shield Inn, on the east side of the city, just outside the gates – fancy place, usually visited by more-gentrified people, but might take you on if you can meet their standards."

Helene bowed her head respectfully. "Thank ye fer th' information. Th' Rising Moon sounds like a good place t' start."

Blondie nodded briefly. "You're welcome. Turn left at the Oak and Spear, then keep going towards the North gate – you can't miss it." The man paused for a second. "And, uuhhh…just be sure to keep the peace, and you'll have no trouble with us. We're a reasonably tolerant city here, but we don't take well to folks who abuse that."

Helene smiled faintly. "Understood, an' thank ye. Have a good day, both of ye." She bobbed her head again, then shifted her pack on her shoulders and walked through the gates into the city.

The sun was shining brightly high overhead as she walked along the main street of Highmoon. There were plenty of houses along the way, rustic and cosy properties, places to live and sleep and relax. To her right, between the houses, she could make out what looked like a large open area and lots of stalls – the local marketplace, maybe? She noted a large store called the Royal Provisioners…it'd be worth investigating when she got time. More houses and smaller stores…then the Oak and Spear was in front of her. It stood out – even at lunch the alehouse was a well-frequented establishment, judging by the noise coming from within. Might be a good place to visit and get news…definitely not to stay.

"Turn left, th' man said…"

Behind the Oak and Spear was a large structure. Helene's brow furrowed for a moment before she realised it must be the city's temple…but she couldn't remember who it was the temple of. A bit further along and elevated above the city was a tower – possibly belonging to the city's lord, if there was one? She'd find out in time…hopefully. She continued walking towards the North gate as instructed, walked past a large establishment identifying itself as the Silverhand House – a well-established merchant business, from the looks of it. She was curious, but would be careful if she ever went there. She kept going, rounded a bend in the road, caught sight of the North gate…

"Ah…there i' is."

A large structure, with an obvious stable area, stood out to her left. Without even looking at the signage, she knew it was The Rising Moon, and the North Gate just beyond it. She thought it strange that the North gate wasn't actually a gate, nor was it guarded as well as the West and, presumably, East gates. Not her business, though. She wasn't the ruler of this city to make such decisions. As she turned towards the Inn, she felt her stomach grumble. A meal wasn't out of the question…and with any luck, she'd be able to secure work as well. One thing at a time, though. She took a deep breath and made her way her way inside.

The Inn was rowdy, all right – but not in a bad way, so far as she could see. It was maybe half-full, with people of all races and dispositions sitting together and talking, eating, drinking…and laughing. In spite of herself, she felt herself smiling faintly. She found a small table in one corner, sat at it after placing her pack under the table with her shield leaning against the pack. She hadn't missed the few inquisitive looks that had come her way when she'd stepped into the Inn, either, but she'd been expecting that. A pretty human girl with short black hair and pale skin, maybe all of sixteen years, approached Helene after a short time.

"Hi! You must be new here. Haven't seen you around before."

Helene gave a ghost of a smile and nodded her head briefly. "Aye, I am new 'ere. Jus' arrived in th' city, an' this place was recommended t' me."

"Nice! So…what'll you have?" The girl sure was cheery, that couldn't be denied. "We can do heavier lunches if you want, but here we tend to run stews with bread and ale or mead for a couple of silvers. Otherwise a roast – lamb, today – with a few vegetables and an ale or mead will cost you five silvers."

"Th' stew be fine," Helene decided simply. "I've been on th' road and eatin' mostly trail rations fer nearly a week."

"Oh?" The girl was genuinely curious. "Where'd you come in from?"

"Archenbridge through White Ford," Helene told her. "On th' barge t' White Ford, then on foot t' here."

"Wow. You're brave. I wouldn't do that on my own, no way." The girl shook her head slightly, clearly impressed with what she took to be Helene's bravery. "What drink with the stew?"

Helene pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Jus' water, fer now," she replied easily. "That'll do fer me." The girl nodded, gave Helene a charming smile, then spun around and headed to the kitchen. Helene's meal was delivered a few minutes later – she guessed the stew came from a large pot in the back – and the girl smiled and left Helene alone. The stew was hot, thick, and nourishing, the bread a little dry but quite edible, and the water washed everything down nicely. She didn't rush herself, though, and by the time she got to the bottom of the bowl she was struggling to finish and was quite full. It was a good feeling, and firmed her decision to try and find work here. When the girl came near to her table, Helene got her attention.

"Ah…'scuse me, miss…?"

"Gertie," the girl supplied. "What can I get you?"

"Nothin', thanks, Gertie," the warrior replied quickly. "But…I did wan' t' talk t' th' owner of th' Inn. I, uuhhh…I came lookin' fer work an' a place t' stay, an'…"

"Oh, you'll be wanting to speak with Falven, then," Gertie told her. "Falven took over after Gorstag was killed." She paused, then pointed to a human man – tall, solidly-built, curly red hair and a ruddy complexion – standing behind the bar. "Don't know if he's hiring anyone, though, but you can always ask."

"Thank ye, Gertie," Helene offered sincerely. "Ye're a gem." Gertie smiled, blushed faintly at the praise, then skipped over to the next table. Helene leaned down, grabbed her shield and pack and made her way over to the bar, where she sat her pack on the floor at her feet and rested her shield against it, then pulled out a stool for herself and sat her pert behind on it and waited patiently.

She didn't have to wait long.

The man behind the bar looked up and fixed slate-grey eyes on Helene, then broke into a small but warm smile. "Hello! You looking for something to drink?"

Helene quickly shook her head. "Lookin' fer somethin'? Yes. A drink? …no. Ye be Falven, yes?"

The man's eyes darkened slightly as the smile faded a little. "Who's asking?"

Helene blinked, then her eyes widened slightly. "Oh…! Sorry. I'm Helene…Helene Jarraton, out of Saerloon." She held her hand out to the man.

Falven nodded slightly, but his expression didn't change, although he did take her hand and give it a brief shake. "Falven Wintermark. I thought you were Sembian. Your accent gives you away."

Helene sighed softly. "I know. I was…I was speakin' wit' Gertie before, an' she said I should talk wit' ye." She paused to take a deep breath. "I've travelled out of Archenbridge, through White Ford. I'm…I'm looking fer work an' a place t' stay. I was hopin' ye might 'ave somethin' I c'n do."

The man's expression relaxed noticeably, and his small smile returned. "Well…that's better than what I was thinking, at least," he observed. "But…I might be able to put you on, if you can show you've got what I need."

"I've worked a tavern – inn – before," Helene noted politely. "Here…lemme show ye." She stopped to reach into her ouch, carefully withdrew Finn's parchment and handed it to Falven. The barkeep opened it up and read it, raised his eyebrows, read it again, then looked at Helene curiously.

"So…this Finn thinks well enough of you, at least," he declared, as he handed the parchment back to Helene.

"Thank ye," she replied courteously, as she folded the parchment and returned it to her pouch. "I also travelled wit' Thora on th' barge 'tween Archenbridge and White Ford, based in no small part on tha' parchment."

"Indeed," Falven commented slowly. He looked at the warrior with a level gaze for a few seconds, saying nothing. Finally he pursed his lips, then nodded his head slowly. "Well…an extra kitchen hand won't hurt to start with. I'll put you on for a ten-day as a trial. We've a small house behind the stables where some of my workers here live – it's also my house, but there's a few extra rooms for other people, so don't go trashing the place. Two gold a week payment to start; if you work out, we'll see about what you're worth. I'll find Gertie and she can take you over there once the lunch rush is done so you can find a room and stow your stuff. You got a lot?"

Helene shook her head. "No, no' at all. All I go', really, is a' me feet, 'ere."

"Fine," Falven replied simply. "Don't go far, then, else Gertie won't know where to find you to show you around. I'll introduce you to Thiala – she's our main cook – later, after dinner; you can help her tidy up in the kitchen."

"Thank ye, again," Helene nodded graciously. "Ye've no idea wha' this mean t' me."

Falven grinned lightly. "Don't thank me yet, Helene. You haven't started work yet." He reached under the counter and grabbed a mug, filled it with ale, and pushed it towards Helene. "Have that while I find Gertie for you." With that he disappeared into the kitchen.

Helene took the mug and sipped on the ale slowly, then smiled to herself. Maybe now she'd be able to make a home and remain hidden.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 11 – The Employee

One week became two; two weeks became a month; one month became two. Summer became Fall. The days were still bright and sunny, but slowly started cooling as clouds started becoming more plentiful in the sky, bringing with them gradually-increasing rains. Being a city of import, the traffic – both mercantile and casual – remained more-or-less steady through Highmoon. Adventurers of all persuasions walked through the town to obtain supplies and equipment before heading into the Dales proper. Merchant caravans arrived, mainly by road from Ordulin, and stocked the local merchant houses, or opened for trade in the marketplace. Highmoon was never wanting for things to do, or have happen; it was a busy, happy, thriving hub of activity.

Helene's standing in the city slowly grew as time went on. She started in the kitchens as Falven had directed, and while her cooking skills were limited in the beginning, Thiala was able to always find work for the young warrior to do. Helene also found a hidden talent as a bouncer of sorts; that had made itself known when a couple of adventurer-types got a bit drunk and started a brawl in the main room of the bar, and Helene, as the nearest person to the punch-up, didn't think twice at the time about interposing herself and pushing the two men apart, even going so far as to strike back when one of the brawlers took a swing at her. That earned her a bit of respect from Falven, who decided to sometimes put Helene on duty in the main hall on busy nights. The decision got Thiala a bit off-side with Falven, though – the elven cook had gotten used to the extra pair of hands in the kitchen on those same busy nights, and the subsequent friendly argument between Owner and Cook made Helene smile.

She'd not been slow about her personal affairs either. While working at The Rising Moon was her main occupation, she'd also gotten to know some of the guards from the Lord's Barracks (that's what the place was called) and had taken to doing a bit of training with them when Falven cold spare her. It felt good to work hard in the barracks with the guard, even if she was only doing training drills; but none of the guards could deny Helene's skill with the blade and shield. Helene wasn't the best swordsman in the city, but she could hold her own against the best, to the point where a few guards had been caught making friendly wagers on whether or not she'd win against any given opponent. From their perspective, it was always good to test yourself against an outsider.

Helene had also spent a reasonable amount of time at the Temple of Oghma. Ogham was often referred to as The Lord of Knowledge, and as such the temple had a library within its structure. Helene had spent time in the temple's library and had learned a few things, most notably about Torm and Torm's faith. She was no longer in any doubt that the dreams she continued to have were from either Torm himself or one of Torm's servants, although she still had no idea why she was having them in the first place. She also took advantage of the library to educate herself on Saerloon, to give herself some knowledge of that city to back up her fake name. She wasn't proud of the subterfuge there, but the alternative was still to risk capture and possibly worse. At least she hadn't heard anything of her father's activities in Highmoon, not even in the merchant houses that did regular business with Sembian families and businesses.

Like Finn before him, Falven found himself utilising Helene's general disposition for working with her hands. While he knew the young woman wasn't in any way opposed to learning new things – her growing ability in the kitchen showed that – her general ability with tools and timber convinced him to let her do basic repair work about the Inn and stables, and he wasn't disappointed with either her work or her work ethic. He found Helene to be hard working and honest, reliable and trustworthy; she didn't talk a lot about her past, but he knew that prying might cause him to lose a good person, so he let her reluctance in that area go.

The people of Highmoon, too, gradually grew to accept Helene. She was Sembian, yes, it was there in her accent, but she didn't behave or act like the stereotypical Sembian. She clearly had a good and solid upbringing, but she was at the same time very down-to-earth and personable. Where most people viewed Sembians and ruthless and corrupt in business – a view that might have been more due to the behaviour of the Sembian Merchant Princes – they found Helene to be nothing like that. The citizens of Highmoon might be a long way from liking her openly, but they tolerated an accepted her as she proved herself to them.

Gertie had almost become like a little sister to Helene over those couple of months. The girl with the short black hair, pale green eyes, and elfin features gravitated towards the taller warrior, and they spent a lot of time talking with each other when they weren't working. They became good friends quite quickly, and Helene found herself looking out for the younger girl – who, it turned out, was actually seventeen winters old, and not sixteen as Helene had first thought. The two even went shopping a couple of times, and even though the bubbly younger girl kept poking fun at the more-reserved warrior, the two nevertheless had a good time in each other's company.

The room she'd been given was…spartan, but cosy. Located in the back corner of the upper floor (Falven's house had two floors) just above the small kitchen, Helene found she had the room next to Thiala. The young warrior soon found that Falven generally gave his spare rooms to people who worked for him but who were otherwise unattached to Highmoon, like herself…like Thiala. Gertie had family in Highmoon, so didn't live in Falven's house. Her room had a large wardrobe, a reasonably-sized bed with a small table next to it, a small desk and a chair, a thin rug on the floor, heavy curtains over the window that looked out onto the Gleamril River beyond the north walls…and that was about it. In the couple of months she'd been there, she hadn't taken to decorating or personalising it it too much; she didn't have a lot of interest in trinkets to personalise a room and make it "hers", and she didn't truly know how long she was going to be in Highmoon anyway. But she was able to rest comfortably each night and wake refreshed each morning, and there was a small room downstairs next to the kitchen that she could bathe in when she wanted to freshen up, and there was a large main room with a few comfortable chairs arranged around the large fireplace that Falven and Helene and Thiala and a few others could sit in and relax and talk and drink…so, overall, the place was as good a home as she'd had in the past ten months or so.

Helen was not immune to the charms of men, either, although she didn't pursue anything in those first couple of months; while she was quite aware that several men in the local guard had looked at her in a way that was somewhat personal, and she had not failed to return such looks, she had so far not gone beyond looking. She simply didn't know if she was ready for any level of relationship, and a one-night fling seemed…not quite right. She wasn't opposed to people having short flings and affairs and the such, she knew it happened – hells, she'd heard Thiala enjoying herself several times in that way – she just didn't know if that was for her. She was sure, though, that if she said anything to either Thiala or Gertie, both women would encourage her to "let loose" for a night, and might even offer suggestions as to which men in the guard she might get with. So she kept her counsel to herself in that area.

By-and-large, though…Helene was content.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 12 – The Experiment

It was about halfway through her third month in Highmoon when the temptations of the flesh finally got to Helene enough that she failed to resist them.

Recognising that such a failure to resist temptation was not unreasonable, she'd been making a point, by the start of her third month, of drinking nararoot tea – with a spoonful of honey! – before going to bed a couple of times a week. She'd very quickly discovered, and agreed with Thora, that nararoot tea on its own was too bitter for her taste, and had adopted the suggestion of stirring a spoonful of honey in with it. She was not doing so, she rationalised to herself, with the intent of going out and finding a man to lie with her, but rather with the idea that if such an event should occur that she be prepared for it.

But even though she'd been preparing for the possibility of it occurring, she was still caught a little by surprise when it actually happened.

It had started with a day off from Falven, and rather than taking a day off to actually relax, she'd gone to the guard barracks and done some intense sparring and training. For several hours of the afternoon she'd trained with members of the city's guard, putting them through their paces and being put through hers with an intensity that was sometimes brutal and other times gentle. She'd started training with the guard a couple of hours after lunch, and was sweating and tired after a couple of hours of work; by the time they'd finally decided to call it quits for the day it was close to dinner. Helene made arrangements to have dinner with a few of them at the Oak and Spear after they'd freshened up, and for the next couple of hours the small group ate and drank and talked and laughed – although Helene was still careful to not reveal a lot about her past, providing only circumspect information about her training and army participation.

However, she'd noticed this nagging sensation within herself during dinner for one of the men in the group – Darmin, the blonde-haired guard who'd met her at the West gate the day she'd arrived at Highmoon. It didn't help her that he was somewhat handsome, and was sitting next to her at dinner – close enough that they touched occasionally. As dinner wound down and the others left, Darmin and Helene had started to get a little closer, although she was sure it was Darmin who was gently pushing toward her. The two eventually left The Oak and Spear, and Darmin walked Helene back to The Rising Moon, and the staff house behind it. In the shadows the pair got closer – Darmin unwilling to leave just yet, and Helene not sure she wanted him to go. Closeness because touching, touching became tender kissing, tender kissing became passionate…and Helene led the man inside, up the stairs to her room…and she latched the door behind them.

She turned to face Darmin, a slightly-uncertain expression forming on her face as she pushed herself against the door. She wanted this, yes…she supposed…but she wasn't sure how to- The half-formed thought stopped as Darmin was suddenly before her, kissing her deeply, his strong hands cupping her face as she felt his lips press firmly against her own. Her hands slid to his waist and held him lightly, her grip getting firmer on him as she got used to the kiss. She felt his hands go around her waist to puller her into a firm embrace, and her arms slid around his neck as she finally let go and allowed herself to start enjoying the moment. Hands moved to remove tunics, clothing fell to the floor, and she gasped softly into his mouth as she felt his hands move up her body and firmly cup and squeeze her breasts. She felt her nipples harden against his palms, felt little shocks of pleasure surge through her as her body began to prepare itself for more.

They somehow made it to her bed, each of them stumbling there in the arms of the other, their bodies pressed together by their embrace, their lips still locked together in a deep and passionate kiss. They bumped into the bed, almost fell on it still entwined in each other's arms, managed to avoid falling and instead lower each other to Helene's bed. Darmin then broke the kiss and pulled back from her, making Helene watch as he slid down her body and pulled her boots off her feet, then tugged at her skirt, dragging it over her hips until it was free of her. She felt warm, flustered, aroused, the heat beginning in her hips and spreading through her body as she felt his hands slide over her thighs to her shorts and pull them down over her hips and long her legs until they joined the pile of clothing on the floor near the bed. She could feel the growing dampness between her thighs, accompanied by a gnawing hunger that she needed to have sated, and as she watched Darmin pull his own boots and trousers off, she could tell that his erect state was willing to try.

She shuffled slightly on her bed as he joined her, lying on top of her and using his body weight to push her thighs apart. Her arms slid around his neck again and pulled him to her as she raised her legs slightly, moaning against his cheek as she felt his hardness press against her heat. She wanted to feel him inside her, but he didn't, not yet. Instead she could only groan softly as he rubbed against her, his stiffness somehow grinding against all the right spots, and she arched her back with growing delight as she felt his lips and tongue attack the side of her neck with tender yet firm kisses and licks. She groaned again and angled her hips, trying to get him into her, and a low growl escaped her throat when she felt him finally press against her entrance. She sucked in a deep breath when he started to push into her, inching into her slowly, teasingly, causing her to almost whimper for him to push fully inside her…then he did just that, and the breath rushed out of her as she felt herself be filled and stretched wonderfully by his girth.

Her ankles locked behind his knees as she felt him begin to move back and forth within her, probing her deeply with long and hard strokes. She was sure she could feel herself expand and contract around him as he moved, her body welcoming his intrusion and encouraging it as she arched herself against him. She could feel his length with each thrust, could sense her enjoyment growing. Her hands moved from his neck to his taut ass, her hands grabbing him and gripping, pulling his hips against hers as he raised his body up and started to thrust harder and deeper into her. Another long, low groan sounded from her as she felt her pleasure rise, grow…with each push into her she felt more of it, and she wanted it as she angled her hips to better receive him. Then a jolt of pleasure surged through her, driving her rapidly towards her peak…she felt her body begin to tense up as he moved even faster and harder within her…she drew in a long and ragged breath…then…

Her back arched, pushing her torso towards his as her body began to tremble suddenly, her tension stiffening her muscles as her inner muscles clamped down tightly around his still-moving shaft. Her mouth opened to let a high-pitched, half-choked and quiet cry of delight escape from her chest, her eyes squeezed tightly closed, her fingers digging into his tight behind as her pleasure crested through her. She felt his movements become erratic against her, felt him push deep, then heard him groan loudly as his cock twitched deep within her and released; she was aware of the forceful spurting of his hot seed into her, and the sensation triggered another, smaller, wave of pleasure to rush through her. She felt him slow and relax above her as her own body slowed and relaxed; she lay back comfortably on her bed as she welcomed him into her embrace. He was still inside her, but he was softening as he rested his head against her upper chest.

It was only then that Helene realised that neither of them had spoken since they'd entered her room; she was quite content to keep that silence for a while longer as she lay on her bed, Darmin lying gently on top of her, her hands lightly caressing his back as she felt his lips slowly kiss her shoulder. Finally she took a breath and released it slowly…then summoned the will to speak, her voice quiet and very content.

"Wow…" she breathed softly. "I…thank ye. Tha' was…amazin'…"

"Yeah," he murmured against her chest. "I didn't think that…well…"

"Wha'…?" she queried lazily.

"I mean…you're normally so…reserved…I didn't think there'd be such passion there…"

Helene chuckled softly. "I guess tha's righ'," she conceded.

"In fact…the way you sometimes act, I thought that…maybe…you were…" he paused to shuffle on her slightly. "Ummm…untouched…?"

She frowned slightly, then decided to let that go and instead shook her head. "No, I…I jus' don' do it much, is all," she admitted quietly. "In fac'…it's been a while since I was las' wit' a man a' all, an' the las' couple o' times I …I jus' didn' ge' much ou' of it."

"Ummm…" Darmin sighed softly. She understood it wasn't something he could really respond to, and she appreciated that he didn't try to brag about how he'd just brought her to climax.

Then she felt him finally pop out of her, felt his seed start to slowly seep out of her and down towards the bed. She sighed softly and gave him a gentle nudge. "Ye…ye need t' get off me, Darmin," she soothed gently. "I need t' clean up a bit."

"Hmmm…? Oh…yeah…" the man sighed then pushed himself up slightly and rolled onto his side, giving Helene the freedom to roll onto her side and then slowly stand. For a moment she wasn't sure her legs would support her, but she managed to stand up slowly. She turned slowly to look at Darmin as he lay on her bed, and found him looking at her nakedness, and she suddenly felt a little self-conscious.

"Wha'…?" she asked curiously, her cheeks flushing slightly as she met his gaze. She was aware, now, that his seed was starting to trickle down her thigh, but she needed to get his answer first. She knew there was a cloth nearby she could use.

Darmin smiled faintly and shook his head. "Nothing, really," he told her. "Just…you're gorgeous. You don't realise how beautiful you are when you let yourself relax a little."

Helene poked her tongue out at him and leaned over to find the cloth. "Beautiful? Me? I don' think so. I'm just a woman who spends all 'er time in armour o' one kin' or another." She found the cloth, leaned over to pick it up, then turned away from him slightly so he couldn't watch her press it between her highs to clean up their combined fluids. "Surely there was no way I could 'ave been attractive this afternoon when I was clad in breastplate armour, waving a sword and shield around, and drenched in sweat."

The man chuckled softly. "Well…maybe not then," he agreed. "But now, when you're relaxed and glowing…yes, definitely."

Cloth firmly clamped between her thighs, she sat on the side of her bed and reached over to him to lightly run her hand over his bare chest. "You need t' get a priest t' fix yer eyes," she told him warmly. Then she looked at his chest and sighed quietly. "An'…ye should be goin', too. It'd be nice, but ye can't sleep 'ere. Anyways, I need t' be up early fer breakfas' duty."

Darmin's lips pursed thoughtfully for a moment, then he nodded in understanding as he started to roll onto his feet. Helene watched him walk around the bed to the large pile of clothing, watched him sort through it to find his attire, eyed him appreciatively as he dressed himself, and she discreetly removed the cloth from between her thighs and dropped it under her bedside table when his back was turned. When he was dressed she went to her wardrobe, took a long tunic out and pulled it over her naked body, then unlatched her door. She stepped over to him, placed her hands on his shoulders and gave him a soft kiss on the lips before opening the door.

"I'll walk ye ou'," she told him quietly. The two made their way down the stairs and then quickly to the front door; Helene opened it for him and held it open for Darmin to walk out of. "I'll see ye in the nex' day or so, I guess," she began, then kissed his lips softly again.

"Looking forward to it," Darmin replied. He reached up to lightly touch Helene's face, then turned and left the building. Helen sighed softly before closing the door and locking it, then turned and walked into the main lounge area to where the fire was going…and found Thiala sitting on one of the couches and looking at her with a hint of amusement in her expression.

"Have fun, did we?" the elven woman asked playfully, causing Helene to blush fiercely.

"Shu' up," was all she could offer in reply as she sat on the other side of the same couch, drawing her legs under her backside as she settled.

Thiala laughed quietly. "My dear…well, I can only say that I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I think you deserve it."

"Why's tha'?" Helene wanted to know, her tone politely curious.

"Because you push yourself too hard at times," the elf replied simply. "You work hard and don't let yourself relax. You're too driven for someone so young, even a human."

Helene knew the answer to that, at least in part, but she didn't say anything, choosing to instead stare at the flames before her. For the next few minutes that was all either of them did – stare at the flames, lost in their own respective thoughts, each of them enjoying the silence and each other's company. Finally Helene spoke softly.

"Well…should be getting' t' bed," she began. "Ye want me up early for breakfast anyway, so…" She sighed, then swung her legs out from under her and pushed herself to her feet. "Good night, Thiala."

The elven woman looked at Helene and smiled warmly. "Good night, Helene. Sleep well."

"You too, Thiala." There was nothing more to be said, really, so Helen walked away, climbed the stairs, made her way to her room and closed the door behind her. She pulled the sheets back and slipped into the bed, then pulled the sheets over herself, wrapped herself inside them, and finally allowed herself to bask in the fading glow of a wonderful orgasm as sleep slowly claimed her.

She'd tidy her room in the morning.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 13 – The Priest

The month moved on, and Helene moved with it. Work in the Rising Moon continued, Helene got better at cooking various things – she never progressed to the point of being able to stand in for Thiala, though – and she became better acquainted with the nuances of working the bar at the Inn. Her friendship with Gertie improved, as did her relationships with Thiala and Falven, and the people of Highmoon became more accepting of the young Sembian. She'd still kept an ear out, though, and there was no further news about her father looking for his missing daughter; at least, not that she heard through the various merchant houses in the city. That, at least, was positive. Her relationship with Darmin was…interesting, too: they became a little closer, but didn't progress to the point of becoming lovers or anything like that, even though they did enjoy one or two more moments of sharing that intense pleasure between them; rather, they remained good friends, but there was also a degree of intimate affection between the pair that went beyond friendship.

The season changed from Summer to Fall, and the days and nights started to show signs of cooling. Rain began to fall more often, although not heavily, and not constantly…but enough to keep the farmers happy. It was easier to train with the guards when the days weren't so hot…and it made it easier for Helene to endure the gentle teasing and ribbing from the guards because of her closeness with Darmin. Perhaps fortunately the guards didn't really seem to know just how far the pair had gone, but that didn't stop them from teasing the two about the closeness of their friendship. Helene had no doubt that if the guards knew that Darmin had spent time in her bed, the teasing would be somewhat more personal, which might then lead to hostilities among the guards…sometimes ignorance was a good thing.

Of course, Helene was now well aware that change comes for everyone, but not always in the way one might have expected.

She was well into what she knew to be her fourth month of living in Highmoon when a visitor entered the town. Of course, the man was like most others: a traveller, a wanderer, maybe even an adventurer looking for a group to join. He was elven, dressed in studded leather armour, carried a shield and had a large mace at his side, carried a backpack on his back with the standard trapping of travelling attached to it. For Helene, though, what set this man apart from the others was his tabard, and the symbol that was emblazoned on it: a silver, right-handed gauntlet, palm open and facing the viewer. The man also wore the same symbol, cast from steel, hanging on a heavy chain around his neck. From her time spent in the temple library, Helene now knew this symbol-

"Thy path is set in motion, and thy destiny is approaching. In time, travel thou with mine priest, and he will explain to thee what it means to be my servant and my instrument."

-quite well, and she somehow knew that this was a man she should speak with. What had her mind spinning, though, was just how profoundly the words of the dream had rung in her mind as soon as she saw the symbol on the man's chest.

She remained behind the bar of The Rising Moon as he walked over to a table and sat down wearily, as if he'd been walking constantly for weeks – which he may well have done. Helene, of course, had no idea where he'd come from; she just knew that she hadn't seen him in the city before now. The dinner rush was winding down and people were starting to leave the main room of the Inn to either go to their rooms upstairs or back to their own homes. Gertie made her way over to the man's table in short order and spoke with him in her usual, enthusiastic manner; after a couple of minutes she was at the bar, and she immediately noticed the change in Helene's demeanour.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost, Hel," the younger girl observed quietly.

"Maybe I 'ave, Gertie," Helene replied slowly. "Maybe I 'ave."

"That bad news, is it?"

"No," the Sembian replied with a brief shake of her head. "Good…I think. It's hard t' explain." She snorted lightly as she blinked to shake herself out of her mental haze. "No' sure I c'n explain i' t' mysel', so I go' no chance explainin' it t' ye." She nodded her head towards the man's table. "Wha' does 'e wan'?"

Gertie looked confused for a moment, then opened her eyes wide, is if suddenly remembering something. "Oh, right! He wants…just a bowl of stew and a chunk of bread, and a mug of ale. He's also after a room."

Helene smiled warmly at her younger friend. "I'll ge' th' meal an' drink. Watch th' bar fer me while I'm ou' back, then find Falven abou' th' room; be quick abou' it if ye c'n."

The girl nodded quickly and strode behind the bar as Helene made her way to the kitchen, where she found Thiala starting to tidy up after the dinner rush. Rather than bother the elven woman, Helene grabbed a bowl from under a counter and walked over to the large pot that had some stew still simmering in it. She stirred the stew several times to mix things up, then ladled a large serve of the stew into the bowl. She found a tray and set it on the counter, placed the bowl on the tray, found a loaf of bread and broke a chunk off it and put the chunk on the tray next to the bowl. She found a spoon for the stew and sat it in the bowl, then took the tray and went to the bar. She poured a mug of ale, set it on the tray, then, after taking a deep breath, took the tray over to the man and set it carefully on the table in front of him.

"There ye go, sir," she offered politely. "Stew, bread an' ae, as ye asked."

The elven man looked up slowly and deliberately; at first his expression took on a look of mild surprise, then settled into a warm smile as he nodded his thanks. "Thank you," he responded simply. "After a long time on the road, it's nice to have a hot meal in your belly, no?"

Helene gave a faint smile in reply as she nodded her understanding. "Aye, tha' it is," she agreed lightly. "I know tha' feelin' well."

"You've travelled a bit, then?" he asked as he broke his bread and dunked it in the bowl.

"From Saerloon into Archenbridge, then to here through White Ford," she told him as he ate the gravy-soaked bread. "No' all a' once, though, bu' I've done my share of travellin' over th' years."

The man chuckled softly as he spooned a mouthful of stew. "I'm out of Ordulin, and Yhaunn before that," he countered easily. "Originally I'm from Scardale Town…or at least that's where my current travels start."

"Tha's a fair journey," Helene observed. "Ye been on yer own this whole time?"

"Mostly," he noted. "I travel with caravans where I can, but that's not always possible, or the caravans are going in the wrong direction."

"Hmmm," Helene sounded thoughtfully, as she looked towards the bar and saw Gertie had found Falven and brought the owner back so a room could be organised for this new traveller. "I'll leave ye be t' eat, bu'…is there a chance tha' I migh' speak wit' ye later?" She paused, inhaled slowly, then forged on. "It's jus'…I think I've been lookin' fer ye. Well, not ye specifically, jus'…someone like ye…if tha' makes any sense a' all…"

The man nodded almost serenely and gave the young woman a warm and friendly smile. "I know."

Helene stood by the tale and blinked – probably stupidly – a couple of times before her mouth finally opened. "Ye…ye do?"

The man's smile grew and became a little mysterious. "Yes. I'll be more than happy to sit down and chat at length…after I've finished eating."

The young woman's eyes opened wide for a moment. "Af- Oh! Sorry, yes. I…I'll leave ye be t' eat." She bowed her head politely, then turned and headed back to the kitchen to help Thiala tidy up. Falven was watching the bar, and Gertie was back waiting on tables…there was no need for her out the front.

How in the Nine Hells did the man know she'd be looking for him?

 

[Sync]

Chapter 14 – The Discussion

It took some time – just how long, Helene didn't really know – for Gertie to come into the kitchen and tell her that the mysterious Man of Torm had finished his dinner and had paid for a room for a few nights. Of course, Helene hadn't left any specific instruction or request for Gertie to tell her when the man was finished eating, so she could only guess that the man had asked for Gertie to find her and tell her. With Thiala's permission, Helene walked out of the kitchen – it was largely finished up by that time anyway, and only a little tidying and cleaning was left to be completed – and into the bar area.

She saw the man had moved from his original table, and was now sitting at a table closer to the fireplace. Most of the patrons had left anyway, leaving only a few tables still occupied by not more than a dozen people of varying descriptions and dispositions – but all were largely quiet and content to talk amongst their respective groups. She poured a couple of mugs of ale, one for herself and one for the man, and walked over to where he was sitting, her long skirt swirling lightly around her ankles as she moved. She stopped by the table, a mug in each hand, and politely cleared her throat to get his attention. The man looked up, saw it was Helene standing a couple of paces away with a drink in hand for each of them, gave her a welcoming smile, and gestured towards the chair opposite him.

"Please, sit," he invited her sincerely, before she could say anything. She did so, placing one of the mugs in front of him before doing so, then sitting the second mug in front of her spot as she sat. He looked at the mug and shrugged slightly as he examined the contents.

"As good an ale as I've had anywhere recently, I'll admit," he noted lightly. "I'm not really an ale person, but here I'll make an exception." He took the mug and raised it to her in a silent toast. "Thank you. Now…how to begin…?"

Helene snorted softly as she lifted her mug and sipped from it slowly. "Well…introductions, per'aps?" She paused, then held out her hand to the man. "I'm Helene Jarraton o' Saerloon."

The elven male looked at her hand before taking it firmly. "Eravan Amakiir, priest of Lord Torm," he replied. "But I'm guessing you already knew about the Lord Torm part."

"I'd worked tha' par' ou' already, yes," she agreed with a small smile. "It's…kinda obvious on ye, really, when ye wear tha' tabard."

Erevan chuckled softly. "I suppose that's true enough," he conceded. "So…why don't you tell me why you came to be looking for me, Helene Jarraton of Saerloon?"

There was something in the way he repeated the name that made Helene suspect he didn't completely believe it. But then…if they were tied by a mutual deity, that might then be a valid suspicion. She raised her mug to her lips and took a mouthful of ale, swallowed, then took in a deep, slow breath. She let the breath out just as slowly, then began slowly and carefully.

"Several months ago," she began quietly, wanting to be sure as few ears heard her as possible, "I was involved in an…incident. I fought…I fought t' correct an injustice, t' avenge a person who'd died unjustly. I…felt terrible. But after tha'…I started 'aving dreams. A deep, soothing voice telling me I'd done well, tha' I was approaching my destiny, and tha' I should travel wit' 'is priest t' learn what i' means t' be 'is servant. And each time I had that dream, I saw a symbol – th' same symbol you wear on your tabard." She paused to take another mouthful of ale. "I know now tha' th' dream came from Torm, or one of 'is servants. But I don' know why."

"I believe you," Erevan offered simply. He'd listened intently and carefully to what the woman was saying. He knew it wasn't the entire truth, and maybe she'd never tell him; but she had told him what was important…or what she believed was important. "Do you know what brought you to Highmoon?"

"The shor' version…?" she queried rhetorically, her gaze focussed on her mug as it sat on the table in front of her. "I was tryin' t' avoid people who might want…explanations…fer th' incident. I'm worried fer me life. So I move, hide, try t' keep a low profile. It brough' me here. An' now…here ye are." She looked up into his eyes. "So…how did ye know t' look fer me, or tha' I'd be lookin' fer ye?"

Now it was Erevan's turn to smirk faintly as he took a mouthful of ale. "Well…I didn't know to look out for you, so much," he pointed out. "But Lord Torm did tell me to make my way west and I would find a person he wanted me to instruct. He told me I'd know this person by their unusual interest in me. He believes he's seen something in you that you may not yet realise yourself, and he's tasked me with teaching you about Torm and Torm's service as we travel together."

Helene nodded slowly as she processed Erevan's words. "So…we'll be travellin' t'gether?" she sighed heavily.

"I must travel," he told the human woman. "I have business in Cormyr – Arabel. If you want to learn what I can teach – what Lord Torm has asked me to teach, and for you to learn – then you should join me. If you want to remain here and refuse Lord Torm's call, that is your choice." He paused to take a mouthful of ale. "I can remain in the city for a few days if you need to settle things here before travelling with me. If you wish to remain here, then I ask that you tell me quickly so I can resume my travels."

Helene pondered this for a few moments. "I…I understan'," she replied thoughtfully. "Bu' I got t' think on this a bit. I can't jus' up an' leave 'ere." She hesitated for a few more moments. "Lemme give you my answer in th' mornin', if ye can."

Erevan nodded his agreement, then drained his mug. "Your loyalty to those around you is possibly what drew Lord Torm's attention to you," Erevan pointed out. "You're serving him with your honour for the people here…but it seems he feels you can be more than you are." He set his now-empty mug on the table and gave her a friendly smile. "I'll wait for your decision after breakfast tomorrow. It will not take me long to pack and leave if you decide to remain."

"Of course," the young woman agreed slowly. "I'll be sure t' let ye know me decision tomorrow morning, then." She drained her mug as well, then slowly stood and took his empty mug in her free hand. "Thank ye fer yer time an' conversation. I…I've go' some thinkin' t' do, it seems." She favoured the man with a small smile of her own. "Good nigh', Erevan o' Torm. Sleep well."

"And you, Helene," the priest replied. He watched as Helene turned and headed back to the bar, a small smile on his lips. He was confident this Helene would decide in Torm's favour. He took up his pack and shield and made his way up the stairs to his room.

For her part, Helene went into the kitchen with the mugs in hand, and she dunked them in a tub of soapy water. She quickly washed the two mugs and dried them, then set them under the bar for the next day. Thiala was already gone, and she hoped the elven woman was alone.

Helene knew she needed Thiala's ear right now.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 15 – The Decision

The young woman left the Inn and headed to the staff house. It was raining lightly when she stepped through the kitchen door; not heavily that it she'd be soaked, but enough that her clothing and hair would be wet when she got to the house. The house was only a couple of minutes' walk from the Inn, but it was far enough that wet weather could make a mess of a person. It was dark outside, cool; there were no lights nearby that could provide good illumination, and although she knew the way well, Helene still felt a little hemmed-in by the lack of lighting. Even though she made the journey between buildings in good time – she did hurry a bit, and she also managed to not slip on the wet ground – she was still wet enough from the rain that it was annoying.

She closed the door to the staff house behind her and stood in the doorway for several moments, letting a few raindrops fall to the rub that she was now standing on. She could feel the slight warmth of the downstairs area start to seep into her, but it was oh-so-slow when she was still wearing damp clothing. Helene walked into the main lounge area, and was gratified to see Thiala sitting on one of the couches, book in hand. There was a decent fire going in the fireplace, and the young warrior walked over to the fire and stopped a few paces in front of it – enough to warm her a little, but not so much that she might be blocking warmth to Thiala. The elven woman looked up as the young warrior took her place, and a small smile formed on her face.

"Helene…you look a little wet," she observed lightly, as she placed the book on her lap. "I guess I got in just before the rain started."

"I guess ye did," Helene replied with a hint of snark in her tone, although she softened as she continued speaking. "I…I'm glad I found ye here, though – I really need yer advice."

"Oh?" Thiala was now understandably curious. "What about?"

"Can ye stay here fer a while, Thiala?" the human countered carefully. "I want t' get ou' o' these clothes first."

"Sure," Thiala agreed with a small nod as she picked up the book. "Come down when you're ready. I'll be here."

"Thank ye, Thiala." Helene quickly made her way up the stairs and then to her room, closing the door behind her as she felt the coolness of her room paw at her through her damp clothes. She quickly peeled off her vest and draped it over her chair, then pulled her skirt off and, after opening her wardrobe door, hung the garment over the door. She pulled her boots and small stockings off, then stood for a few moments in nothing but her small shorts. The air was cool and her body slightly damp, and Helene couldn't help a small gasp as she felt her nipples rapidly harden on her small breasts. She moved about her room slowly, allowing her body to air-dry as much as she could without taking too much time. The cool air felt good against her skin as she moved, she discovered. Finally she reached into her wardrobe and grabbed a long tunic, pulled herself into it, and made her way down the stairs again. How long had she been gone? Five minutes? Ten? Probably didn't matter; Thiala was still there, reading her book, and Helene sat on the other end of the same couch, drawing her legs under her and slumping a little into the corner of the furniture.

"Wha' book're ye readin'?" she asked politely.

"This?" Thiala mused distantly as she looked up again. "Oh, it's a new book I found. Harvey Pottard and the Alchemist's Rock. It follows the story of a young boy who discovers he's a famous wizard and goes to some special school of magic that teaches wizards their craft. I'm not very far into it, though, so I can't tell you a lot about it. But it seems interesting enough…so far."

"Hmmm," Helene offered non-committally. It totally sounded like something she would not be interested in, but she wasn't going to say that to Thiala. If the elven cook seemed to like it, who was she to say otherwise?

Thiala looked sideways at Helene for a moment, then put a slip of parchment into the book to mark her place and then closed the book and set it on her lap again as she gave the human woman her attention. "So, Helene…what did you want to talk with me about? I got the impression that it is at least a little bit important to you, and it seems to be weighing on your mind at the moment."

Helene nodded slowly, her gaze looking at some point just beyond the fire. "Ye could say tha'," she agreed quietly.

"Helene…" Thiala sighed softly. "Wake up and speak to me, will you?" Her voice was kind and gentle, offsetting the possible roughness of her words.

"I am awake, ye know," the young woman replied distantly, her gaze not moving from the fire for a few moments longer. Then she blinked and sighed, and turned her head so that her focus was now on the elven woman next to her. "Jus'…in thought."

"That much is obvious," Thiala noted. "I can spend the night guessing, if you'd like…"

Helene took a deep breath and let it out quickly as she shook her head. "No, I…I'll tell ye." She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, then continued in a soft voice. "Maybe…six, seven months ago, maybe a bi' longer, I was involved in a…an unpleasant incident, I s'pose ye could call it. Don't ask fer details, I won' give 'em t' ye. I fled it, an' th' life that go' me t' tha' point. Bu'…through that, while I was movin' from place t' place, I sometimes 'ad, an' still do 'ave, a dream: of a voice tellin' me tha' my destiny was at hand, and I should follow 'is priest." She kept her gaze on Thiala for a couple of seconds, then looked back towards the fire before continuing.

"I know now tha' the voice was tha' of Torm, God of Loyalty and Duty. Th' thing is…the man tha' arrived earlier t'night was – is – a priest o' Torm. An' when I spoke wit' him, he said he's been waitin' t' find me." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "He said I don' 'ave t' go wit' him, o' course, but…" She let her voice trail off, a little helplessly.

"But you're wondering what that will mean if you refuse to go," Thiala finished gently, and Helene nodded her head.

"Exactly," the human woman muttered. "I never much been one fer gods an' stuff before, but now…should I?"

Thiala sighed softly. "I can't speak to the will of a god," she pointed out. "But it sounds like you're asking me whether you should be leaving Highmoon. If that's the question, then I'd suggest that while you've certainly made friends here, and made a bit of respect for yourself, and done some good work here, and found a lover you possibly hadn't expected…would you honestly want to be doing this for the rest of your life?"

Helene was silent. She couldn't think how to answer that.

"That silence…?" Thiala pointed out sagely, after several long moments of Helene being quiet. "That's your answer. At some point you would have become tired of the life here, working in the Inn. I know you well enough to say that you're basically an honest person – especially to yourself. So I would tell you to not worry about us here in Highmoon. It sounds like there's some bigger calling for you, and the start of that calling may have just found you. So go and see where it leads. Otherwise you'll still be here in twenty years, but feeling emptiness and regret. Darmin might satisfy you now, but would that still be the case in ten years?"

The young woman dropped her head to her chest. Deep down, she knew Thiala was right. She just hadn't wanted to admit it to herself. She also couldn't tell Thiala that part of that "honesty" was built on a lie. Or…maybe the lie was in place of the honesty she'd been denying in herself. That was going to take a while to figure out.

"No…ye're right," she finally conceded quietly. "I guess…I 'ave t' go. I owe it t' Lord Torm t' find out wha' his plans are fer me."

"You called him 'Lord' Torm," the elven woman observed slyly. "Sounds like you'd already made your choice, and you just wanted me to confirm it was the right one for you."

"Maybe," Helene snorted softly. "But…thank ye. I…I guess I'll be lettin' Erevan – he's th' priest – and Falven know in th' morning. Gertie won' like it, though. Th' girl's almost like a little sister t' me."

"She'll get used to it," the cook told her friend. "We all will. We're not that stupid that we can bury our heads in the cauldron and hope the gods just go away."

"I guess no'," Helene offered with a small grin. Then the smile faded, and was replaced by a more-sombre expression. "Well…I s'pose tha's it. Th' choice is made. All I need t' do, then, is tell th' people tha' need t' know."

"Yes, you do," Thiala agreed simply. "But not now. That can wait until morning. For now, go to bed. You know I don't need as much sleep as you do."

"Still pushin' me around?" Helene's words might have objected, but her expression said she was teasing. Thiala wasn't put out at all.

"Not even close," the elven woman replied.

"Sure," Helene shrugged as she stood up. "Good nigh', Thiala."

"Good night, Helene," Thiala answered in farewell. Then as she'd done many times before this night, she watched as the human woman walked out of the room, up the stairs, and into her room. She sighed softly, then picked up her book, opened it to where she'd placed her mark, and resumed reading.

It was with a satisfied smile on her face that Helene drifted into sleep that night.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 16 – The Informing

How long had she slept? Sunlight was peeking in through the blinds when she opened her eyes, and Helene recognised that she'd both been tired and slept well. She'd probably needed the sleep. She certainly felt refreshed, and she rolled over in her bed and yawned and stretched luxuriously. She felt good, relaxed…she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her, although she couldn't say exactly why. She lay in bed for a few moments, then took a deep breath and let it out quickly and swung her legs out from under the blankets. She gasped softly when her bare feet touched the cold floor, but it was short-lived as her feet got used to it.

She stood and stretched again, reaching for the ceiling and almost getting there as she pushed herself up onto her toes and reached with her fingertips…but not quite. Still, she felt better for the stretch. She pulled her tunic off and stood in nothing but her shorts for a moment and took the time to be comfortable with her near nakedness: taut, toned tummy sitting flat on her abdomen; small and pert breasts sitting on her chest almost defying gravity's efforts, nipples hardening in the cool morning air; slender waist accentuated by gently flaring hips. Then she sighed softly and moved to her wardrobe and dressed herself – long skirt, shorter tunic and vest, plus her boots. She started to pull her hair back into its regular ponytail, then hesitated and instead decided to put it up in a low bun instead. It took a bit longer to arrange, but she felt like a change of hairstyle. That, and she wouldn't have to deal with it getting in the way as much. She opened the door to her room and stepped out to face the day – a day in which she'd tell several people of her decision to leave Highmoon and travel with Erevan to Arabel.

She first went to the kitchen and was greeted by Thiala and Falven. The three said their morning greetings and went about their morning business – Falven to the bar, Thiala and Helene to the task of preparing and serving the morning meals. At least the breakfast meals were easier and simpler than the lunch and evening meals. There weren't so many orders this morning, which made keeping on top of everything easier, too. Occasionally Helene left the kitchen area to help Gertie serve or tidy up, and for the couple of hours that breakfast service lasted that was how the staff operated: doing what needed to be done, moving to where work was needed…except Falven – he stayed behind the bar and directed everyone else.

Helene spotted Erevan coming down later for breakfast, and she managed to get his attention at one point. She couldn't stay and chat, though, and the priest understood that; she managed to get a few words out as she moved between tables and work areas.

"Erevan…I would speak wit' ye after breakfast, if ye'd stay a while," she told him quietly, several dirty plates in her hands.

"You've made your decision, then?" he asked equally-quietly.

"Aye, I 'ave," she nodded. "I'll tell ye later, though." She supposed that in itself might have given him her answer, but she didn't get to swell; Gertie was calling her to help, and she had to leave the table.

For the remainder of her breakfast shift she was kept busy, but not overwhelmed; it was just enough that the staff were able to have the place largely cleaned from breakfast duties only a half-hours after the service had officially ended. Thiala, knowing what Helene was planning, gave her permissions for the young warrior to leave the kitchen, and the human girl did so thankfully.

She found Erevan still at his table, and, after letting Falven know that Thiala was done with her for the moment, went to join the priest. She pulled her chair out and sat down firmly, then placed her hands flat on the tabletop in front of her and looked into the man's eyes.

Erevan smirked faintly. "So…you've come to tell me…what?" he asked slyly.

Helene blinked at his directness, then took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. "I…I'll travel wit' ye," she told him slowly and softly. "I want t' learn what it means t' be a servant' o' Lord Torm, an' I want' t' find ou' what he plans fer me."

The elven male smiled warmly and broadly. "I'm glad to know that," he replied sincerely. "In that case, I can wait a few extra days while you settle your affairs here."

"Thank ye," the young woman sighed with a hint of relief.

"Was that a difficult decision to make?" Erevan wanted to know.

She shook her head slowly. "I…don' think so." She paused, then snorted softly. "In fac', as was pointed ou' t' me las' night, it was more lilkely tha' I'd already made it an' jus' needed someone to agree it was th' righ' choice."

"Well…however you came to it, I'm glad you made the choice you did…although I may be at least a little biased in this matter," he chuckled sincerely. "I look forward to teaching you and guiding you in Lord Torm's faith, Helene of Saerloon." He held his hand out to her across the table.

Helene took his hand firmly in hers. "Thank ye, Erevan o' Torm," she replied, matching his semi-formality. "I look forward to trying to work out wha' it is tha' Lord Torm has in mind fer me."

"On that…time will tell," Erevan offered ambiguously as he released her grip. "For now, though, I shall leave you to your affairs. Come and find me where you are ready to leave."

"I will," she agreed readily, then she pushed herself back from the table slightly and slowly stood. "Again, thank ye."

"The pleasure is mine, I'm sure," he countered with a soft laugh. Then he waved her away in a friendly manner, and she nodded, smiled then turned around and walked from the table. Next…she had to find Falven. Then Gertie. And Darmin deserved to hear from her lips, too. She sighed softly as she walked away. Saying goodbye was hard.

She found Falven behind the kitchen, outside the main building of the Inn. He was checking over a delivery of produce brought in from one of the farms to the north; as she drew closer, Helene saw it was a small cartload of potatoes, a staple food in these parts. She was rather partial to them, and Thiala had a way of making the otherwise-bland vegetable very delicious. It was one of a large number of things she'd miss about Highmoon, but the young woman knew the potential for gain was greater by leaving. She stood patiently a short distance from the cart, her mind wandering over random things as she waited for Falven to finish approving the delivery. Finally he was done, coins changed hands, and he waved the driver of the cart along to unload his load into the kitchen storage box. It was only then that he turned to acknowledge Helene's presence with a small smile and a nod for her to approach, which she did at a measured pace.

"You've been standing there long enough," he opened conversationally. "Just as well it wasn't raining."

"If it was rainin', I'd've been waitin' fer ye inside," she pointed out simply.

"I suppose you would have," the man agreed. "What's on your mind, Helene?"

She sighed heavily. This was not going to be easy. "Falven, I…it's time fer me t' be leavin'."

Falven's brow furrowed slightly. "You're…leaving…? Just like that?"

Helene's shoulders slumped slightly, her chin dropping to her chest. "I have t', Falven. I…it's not easy t' explain bu'…I must."

"Try me." He wasn't being unkind…he just wanted to understand.

"Well…I been havin' these dreams, Falven. I know, now, it's been Lord Torm calling me t' his service. At leas' I believe it is. Las' nigh', th' man who arrived in th' Inn-"

"Ummm…Erevan, was it? That priestly type?"

She nodded. "Yes, 'im. Turns ou' he's been lookin' fer me. Well, no' me by name, but fer me in general. He's a priest o' Torm, an' Torm's told 'im to seek me ou' and teach me." She looked up into Falven's face, their gazes meeting.
"An', so…I'll be leavin' wit' him in a few days to go t' Arabel, an' learn from 'im on th' journey."

Falven was silent for a while, digesting this without comment or change of expression. Finally he sighed softly. "I see."

That's it? That's all he's got to say? The thought bounced around Helene's head. Falven's simple and almost non-reaction stopped her for a few moments. The man had said little, and was giving nothing away with what he had said. In the end, she felt she had to try and break the silence.

"Ummm…hey, at leas' I came t' ye as soon as I decided…" she offered a little lamely. She didn't know what she'd expected, but this didn't seem to be going as well as she might have hoped.

"I should be thankful for small mercies, then?" He paused, then sighed heavily as his gaze fell to the ground and focussed on a point somewhere between the two of them. "No…I'm sorry. It's just…very sudden and short-notice, is all." He looked up into Helene's face. "When will you be leaving?"

"In a few days," she replied with a small amount of relief. "Erevan want's t' go as soon as we can, bu' 'e's 'appy t' wait fer me t' settle things 'ere, first."

"Well…" Falven started, then stopped. "I'll pay you to the end of the week, then. That's four more days, whether you stay to then or not."

"Thank ye," Helene replied gratefully in a small voice. She hadn't expected that. "I've still go' a few things t' do before we go. A few people t' say farewell to, make sure we're supplied fer th' journey, maybe ge' 'orses t' travel on…things like tha'."

"Of course," Falven agreed readily. "Just…don't ignore the Inn while you're still here." He managed a faint smile. "Gertie would notice straight away, and you know how she looks up to you."

"I know," Helene nodded slowly. "I'm no' lookin' forward t' tellin' Gertie, either.' But it's th' righ' thin t' do."

"Hmmm…" Falven mused thoughtfully. "Maybe that's why Lord Torm called to you. You're always trying to do the right thing, and a good number of times I've see you trying to make things right if you feel it's wrong."

The young woman shrugged helplessly. "Maybe. I don' know. Bu' he seems t' have called t' me…so I'm gonna see wha' his call is fer."

"Always a good idea," Falven agreed sagely. "But, if you'll excuse me, I've got a Tavern to run, still. See you for the lunch service?"

"Aye, ye will," Helene agreed quickly.

Falven smiled. "Good." He began to walk past Helene, stopped, then lightly clapped his hand warmly on her shoulder before continuing on his way and back into the Inn just as a gentle, misty rain started to fall. Helene stood there for a few moments longer, losing herself in her own, unknowable thoughts for a while as the mist fell on her before she, too, turned and headed back into the Inn.

Telling Gertie was going to be hard.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 17 – The Leaving

Helene sat on the edge of her bed and gazed out the small and slightly-dirty window at the landscape beyond. Her window faced north, so she could see over the north wall to the rising hills on the other side of the river. Sun was streaming into the room, brightening it immensely. The bed was made, pulled up and tucked in and straightened, the sheets already changed over for clean ones…as best she could. Her pack was on the floor at her feet, her heavy boots keeping the pack where she wanted it. She shifted slightly, and the bed frame creaked slightly under the weight of her armoured form. Her large shield rested against her pack; her sword and scabbard were leaning against the bed. She sighed softly, almost regretfully, as she knew she'd never see this room again; if she ever returned to Highmoon, it would not be to work in the inn.

The young warrior reflected on the events of the past few days – the days that had followed since she'd told Falven she was leaving. They'd been hectic days, that was for sure, both working her meal shifts in the inn as well as making sure both she and Erevan were properly supplied and equipped for their journey to Arabel. There was lots to consider for the journey – nevermind who she'd needed to tell of her coming departure.

First was the path to travel – reasonably simple, as roads go. Leave Highmoon through the west gate, start along the road that was the East Way, then keep going to Arabel. Simple, right? Maybe…if not for the Thunder Gap and the Hullack Forest along the way. The Thunder Gap, also sometimes called the Thunder Pass, was a rocky trail – a well-made trail, to be sure, but still rocky and dangerous – followed a valley through the Thunder Peaks mountain range. It would not be an easy crossing, but it wasn't difficult or impossible. The Thunder Gap also marked the border between Sembia and Cormyr; if she could cross the Thunder Gap, she'd be in Sembia, and a lot harder for her father to get to. Not impossible for her father, just more difficult. Then there was the Hullack Forest – supposedly haunted, occasionally treacherous, but the road was travelled enough to be called reasonably safe. If she and Erevan survived the Gap and the Forest, they'd be relatively certain of reaching Arabel. There were places they could stop at along the way as they needed. It would take them between two and three weeks to make the travel. They'd be on foot; she already knew that neither of them had the coin to purchase horses for the trip.

Making sure they both had the necessary gear for the travel. That was easy enough to achieve, at least. Highmoon was not lacking for places they could go to check their supplies and top up on what was needed. A small tent each, a week's worth of rations each, fire lighting tools, rope, bedrolls and blankets…healing potions, a few antidote potions, and more assorted things like that. Fortunately Erevan, being a priest, could provide some healing as needed though his devotion to Torm, but Helene didn't want to be relying on his magic all the time. She felt he should be saving his magic for situations where a potion might not do, or be handy. She hadn't told Erevan that, not yet, but she would. At some point.

She'd told Darmin first. They were casual lovers, yes, but also good friends with a fondness that was more then friendship. They'd walked together, talked together, sparred and trained together, ate and drank together, and had shared pleasures of the flesh with each other on several occasions. All in all, they had a good bond. So it wasn't surprising that Helene found it difficult to tell him she was leaving, and not easy for him to hear it. He accepted it with good grace, even though she could tell he didn't especially like it, and Helene found herself thinking about the point Thiala had made: while Darmin was good for her now, would he still be as good for her in ten years? She couldn't give a "yes" to that thought, although she never voiced the suspicion to the lover in front of her. Maybe, deep down, he knew the same? She walked away from him wanting to believe that he did know that what they had, while good, wouldn't last. The belief made it easier for the young woman to accept the parting.

Next: tell Gertie. It took a while to find the dark-haired girl, and when Helene finally caught up with her "little sister", it looked like rumour had gotten ahead of her. Gertie wasn't quite accusing of Helene of anything, but the girl knew at least a little by the time Helene got the chance to speak with the younger girl. Gertie was upset…or, maybe more disappointed? It wasn't easy to tell which. Maybe a combination of both. But Helene took the time to explain, as best she could without going into great detail, why she was leaving, and the fact that the older girl was taking the time to sit and talk, instead of just going, seemed to make it easier for the younger girl. Gertie liked the news about as much as Darmin had, although for different reasons; Helene held on to the belief, as she had with Darmin, that Gertie at least understood and knew it had to be done, with or without her liking.

Erevan himself didn't need a lot of preparation time; he was ready to travel already, other than picking up a few additional supplied – something he did with Helene. The elven priest had his armour, his shield, and his mace, in addition to his pack and whatever was inside it; all he needed to do was freshen up, rest, and top up the necessities. Helene felt that Erevan was more accompanying her to see what manner of person she was, and she supposed that was fair enough. They'd be travelling together, and although their partnership was largely through being ordained, that in itself didn't tell the other what manner of person each of them was. They talked a little as they shopped and prepared, getting to know each other a little and taking a bit of comfort in the knowledge that Torm at least appeared to have chosen wisely.

Falven and Thiala, having been told earlier, were a bit more accommodating of Helene's pending departure, but they still had work to do and tasks to perform. They continued working at the inn, talking with Helene when time permitted, giving a little leeway when necessary. Helene continued to work at the inn as much as she could, and she made every effort to balance her duties at the Inn with the necessities of preparing for the journey to Arabel. She wasn't always successful, of course, but Falven and Thiala at lest seemed to appreciate the effort being made by the young woman. Thiala was especially amused when a very-drained Helene hauled herself upstairs each night to sleep.

That brought her to…now.

Helene sighed softly and nudged her pack with her booted foot. Now that she was at this moment, she found herself reluctant to go. She'd made a good life here, made some friends, had a decent-enough job, was learning new things. It was more than many could say. And yet she knew it wasn't going to sustain her forever. She had a warrior's spirit inside her, something her father had recognised many, many years ago. Yes, she was more down-to-earth than many, but she wasn't the sort who could be satisfied by remaining in one place for a long period; well…not yet, anyway. Helene did envisage a time where she would one day settle down, maybe raise a family of her own, but that time was not now.

"Come on, Helene," she chided herself in a near-whisper. "Get off yer ass an' move."

Her words to herself seemed to work; she rocked forwards and onto her feet, then slowly stood. She took her scabbard and sword and belted firmly around her waist, then took her pack and slung it over her shoulders. When she'd settled the pack she took her shield and hefted it slightly. It had been a while since she'd used it in anger – her sword, too – but she knew now that the days of fighting to stay alive were once again ahead of her. With any luck, there wouldn't be many of those days…but that might also depend on how Torm decided to test her. So many unknowns when dealing with the whims and calls of the gods.

She looked around the room for what she knew would be the very last time. She knew she'd never come back here again, not even as a visitor. She'd like to, if for no other reason than to see how things changed while she was gone, but her instinct told her it wasn't going to happen. For the past four or five months, this room had been her home…and now it was that no more. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then turned and walked through the door, leaving the life of a Rising Moon employee behind.

She found Falven at the bar in the inn. They spoke briefly, said their final farewells, and Falven paid her the money owed. They shook hands firmly, many words going unspoken between them, before Helene turned and headed to the main door of the Inn, where Erevan was waiting for her.

"Are you ready?" he asked quietly. He knew this wasn't easy for the human woman.

Helene pursed her lips and shook her head quickly. "No," she admitted. "Bu' let's go before I turn aroun'."

Erevan nodded and opened the door for the woman, and walked out behind her. They headed south through the city and turned towards the west when they reached the intersection where the Oak and Spear tavern was. Past the Royal Provisioners shop they walked, then on towards the West Gate. They gave a nod to the guards on their way out of the city, then kept going through the line of trees that made a ring just beyond the city walls. When they reached that first crossing – the one Helene had used when she came up from White Ford several months ago – Helene stopped, forcing Erevan to stop beside her. She looked along the East Way for a moment, then took a deep breath, steeled herself, then resumed walking to begin their journey towards Arabel.

Helene could only hope that the learning was worth the uprooting she'd just done.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 18 – The Gap

For the first day the pair walked largely in silence. They spoke a little on occasion, but didn't have any great, protracted conversations. Erevan was understandably curious to find out just what Helene knew about Lord Torm and tried to gently draw such information out of her; while she did reply, her answers were often distant and vague, lacking presence and detail. The elven priest supposed he could understand why his companion might be reluctant to speak right now; after all, she had just left behind what he presumed to be a comfortable life. But her continued silence was not really an option, not in the long term.

They arrived at Landaw, a small farming village, just as night was falling. There were no gates or guards or walls to prevent their entry to the village, and the East Way almost ignored the existence of the small community. Landaw was mostly small farms, backing onto the river, a few stores, and a single tavern; the village was small enough that it might be instead considered to be a rather large Waystation. Still, it was enough for a couple of foot-sore travellers to rest at overnight, and Erevan and Helene made their way to the tavern to see about a meal and beds for the night. The barkeep was able to accommodate – while he got his regular rush of folks for meals and drinks, he wasn't generally expecting people to stay overnight. They were able to acquire a room each for the night, and after a hearty but basic meal, an ale to wash it down, and a bit of chatter by the fireplace, the two were quite ready to retire for the night and get some well-earned rest.

They set off early the following day. It was cold, slightly wet with a misting rain, generally not ideal for travelling on foot, but they had hot breakfasts in their bellies and knew that horses, while likely being of greater use to them now, could be a hindrance to them in the Gap. They made good time along the damp road, and talked a little as they walked, but not much, preferring to save their energy for walking. Erevan was able to keep pace with his human companion; what he lacked in the physical strength she had, he made up for with his natural elven agility and fleetness. They passed comments between themselves about each other, trying to work out more about who and what each other was, and while some information was shared, it wasn't a lot. But Erevan was happy that Helene was opening up a little.

It was dark, the last rays of daylight disappearing, when they arrived in Hallow Creek. Like Landaw before it, Hallow Creek was a small farming village, although still a little larger than Landaw. Hallow Creek had the dubious honour of being the last village along the East Way before the Thunder Peaks if one was heading towards Cormyr; conversely it was the first place a traveller would arrive at if they were heading towards Sembia and The Dales. The Gleamril River was little more than a large stream when it reached Hallow Creek, and it was enough to keep the farms watered. The pair managed to get a hot meal in the village tavern and a room each for the night; when they were done eating and drinking and talking quietly, they settled in to rest well.

The pair topped up their provisions before leaving Hallow Creek, although the village did not have a lot to offer for purchase. Helene also took the opportunity to top up her personal supply of Nararoot for the journey. She'd gotten into the habit of drinking it twice a week, and while she wasn't expecting anything on the road to Arabel, she didn't want to get slack in the habit of taking it. Erevan did note the purchase but wisely said nothing, even going so far as to act as if he hadn't seen it. It was none of his business, although he did privately acknowledge Helene to be a healthy and attractive young woman.

The rain was falling heavier when they left the village of Hallow Creek behind them. It wasn't a strong or driving rain, but it was a steady fall. They were quickly soaked, but they had to push on; their armour gave them little protection against the weather, and there was little warmth in the air to give them any respite against the cooling effect the rain had on them. Still they trekked on, knowing that if they didn't cover the ground today, they'd just have to cover it tomorrow in conditions that might be worse. Certainly the Thunder Gap wasn't going to be easy to get through when you were on foot, and it was raining. They didn't talk much that day; the cold and the wet made it more necessary to focus on moving. The rain had long stopped when they faintly were able to make camp for the night, and they set their tents maybe twenty feet off the road and in the scrub for a bit of protection and shelter. They were able to get a fire going for warmth, and they talked a little as they ate their rations. At least the time Helene had spent in Inns hadn't been wasted; she'd turned into a decent-enough cook, good enough to prepare meals at camps like this one. Her campsite meals weren't going to win any notoriety or acclaim, but they were going to fill a hungry belly.

It took them two more days of travelling in generally-miserable weather to reach the base of the Thunder Peaks. The East Way followed a valley floor into the mountains, and while it had been smoothed out and cleared and some of the walls reinforced to prevent rocks falling, it was still a tricky pass to navigate. It could be a bit windy in parts, was still a little rocky, could be narrow in places, and had few places to make camp…and it would take them several days to get through it. At least it wasn't steep or fraught with tricky inclines…although it was still far from flat.

The two made camp that night at the base of the mountains, relieved at least that the rain had stopped. They shared a little more in the way of personal information as they sat at the campfire after dinner, although Helene was still guarded about the details of her life before Archenbridge; she spoke about herself in a circumspect way, mentioned events in a vague ways without giving any details, and she appreciated that Erevan was astute enough to not pry. Finally they retired for the night, each of them in their separate tents as they had the previous nights, preparing for the task of tackling the Gap the next day.

Helene also knew within herself that entering the Gap would also start her formal teaching about Torm.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 19 – The Waystation

The pair packed up their camp in the morning, a task made a little more difficult by the wetness of their gear from the drizzle that had fallen on them overnight. Nothing was soaked, but things were wet enough to be a problem. One tent each meant they had enough room to store their gear in their tent with them. It probably was not the most effective way of camping when you considered that tent walls had a tendency to leak a little when it was raining and you touched the walls for even a short period of time – something Helene was well aware of by this time – but given their respect for each other's privacy it was the only way of making it work.

Once they were on the road again the pair made their way along the road towards the Thunder Gap. It took them a while, but they eventually did notice that the road was slowly climbing into the mountains, and that it was starting to wind its way around and between the mountain bases. It was cold, and the wind came at them a bit more forcefully – at least it wasn't raining, but the cold breeze cut through them pretty quickly. The pair were more focussed on travelling than they were on their surroundings, although neither of them was oblivious to what was going on around them – mountain passes were typically good places for bandits to attempt an ambush on unwary travellers, and neither of them were of a mind to become victims to bandits. Perhaps fortunately, the weather helped them in that regard; it probably also helped that the East Road was well-maintained and often-travelled.

It was Erevan who first spotted the waystation along the road. He tapped Helene on the shoulder and pointed to what looked like a small cave in a mountain wall.

"There," he told her simply. "We'll stop there for the night. It may be cold, but it will be dry, and we'll be able to make a fire and rest."

Helene looked where the elf was pointing, her eyes squinting slightly before she made it out. Damn the elf had good eyes, and she nodded once she saw it. "Alrigh'," she agreed readily. "I hope it's deep enough fer a campfire t' stay lit."

"Most waystations in the mountains are," Erevan advised her. "They'll be made for a small caravan, so even a large party will fit comfortably. We'll be fine. Come."

It took them a bit longer than they'd expected to reach the cave – while Erevan's eyes were good for spotting it, the weather made the distance appear a bit deceiving. They finally made it, though, and were soon deep inside the cave and behind a stone wall that clearly used as a windbreak. They slowly shed their packs and weapons, and Helene took the time to look around. She'd never been inside a mountain waystation before now. While it was a cave on the outside, it had obviously been dug out and secured. She supposed the natural cave hadn't been that deep, and she bet herself that a small team of dwarves had come through and, over time, excavated and put up the framework she could now see. It looked a lot more sturdy than she'd have thought, and she felt a lot safer inside seeing the dwarven handiwork. The stone wall did a good job of keeping a lot of the wind out, but not all; she could see that the wall had been deliberately structured to provide protection for a campfire, which would suit both her and Erevan just fine. The cave had been stocked with plenty of wood and tinder, too, and Erevan was starting a fire with it in the hollowed-out pit. Helene's face took on a slightly-shamed look as she made her way over to where Erevan was kneeling.

"Sorry," she muttered as she moved to assist with the fire. "I should o' been 'ere t' help ye. It's jus'…I never been inside a mountain waystation befer now, is all."

"Don't worry about it," Erevan replied with a wave of his hand, as if dismissing her apology. "I've seen a few in my time." He chuckled softly. "I'll bet that I'm at least a hundred years, maybe more, older than you, so I'm sure I've seen one or two things you have not."

"I'll no' be takin' tha' bet," she answered with a faint grin. She sat back on the ground, drew her knees up to her chest as she watched the elven priest get the fire started and gently build the flames. It wasn't a large fire to start with, but it was better than nothing…and it would grow as they added wood to it. She sighed softly.

"So, Erevan…" she ventured quietly, as if asking the question would deny her the answer. "When will ye start t'…t' tell me abou' Torm?"

The elf looked up from the fire and regarded her thoughtfully for several moments. "That's a bit more direct than I might have expected, but I appreciate it." He paused, then nodded his head slightly. "We can start tonight, if you like. We've got a couple of hours before it will be time for dinner, so…shall we set our tents and then start?"

Helene nodded her head after a few moments of thought. "Sure, we c'n do tha'," she agreed. Then she tilted her head slightly and looked around with a puzzled expression on her face. "Bu'…how do we set out tents in 'ere…?"

Erevan laughed softly. "You weren't joking when you said you'd never been inside a mountain waystation before now." He pointed to several indentations in the floor, not far away from where the fire pit was. "There will be more like those around here. We can anchor our tents into them. They'll be quite secure, and will give us extra protection against what wind makes it back this far."

She looked at where he'd pointed, and saw the small holes dug into the floor at what looked to be rather specific and strategic points – points that made good, if rather obvious, places to pitch and secure tents. She nodded slowly in understanding, then went to her pack and pulled the tent from it. A few minutes later she had her tent pitched and secured; a few more minutes after that she had Erevan's tent pitched and secured as well. She grabbed her pack and placed it inside her tent, then took Erevan's pack and placed it inside his tent. By the time she'd finished with the tents the fire was going strongly, and the young woman made her way to the pit. Before sitting she peeked her head around the solid wall and looked towards the cave entrance; she could easily see that it was getting dark and gloomy outside, and she knew that it wasn't because night was falling. There was still daylight outside, but the weather was closing in on them, and the clouds were almost black. She couldn't help the small shiver as she ducked back behind the wall and sat next to the fire.

"It'll rain 'ard tonigh'," she offered softly. "Hopefully there's no' a lo' of wind t' drive th' rain. Hard t' tell, 'ere."

Erevan nodded thoughtfully. "With any luck, the rain will blow itself out overnight and we'll be able to keep travelling tomorrow."

"Aye, that'd be good," she agreed readily. "We don' 'ave a lo' of food with us beyon' simple rations." She sighed softly. "I'll do wha' I c'n wit' them, though." She looked up, then grinned cheekily. "No offence, bu' ye be terrible a' cookin'."

Erevan didn't look put out at all by the observation; instead, he looked amused. "It's true," he conceded. "I never made any grand claim about my ability to prepare meals." He chuckled softly. "If it wasn't for field rations, I'd probably starve every time I travelled."

"No commen'," Helene grinned savagely, causing Erevan to roll his eyes sarcastically at her response. She didn't immediately set herself to preparing their rations, though – firstly there wasn't much that needed to be done to prepare them, and secondly it was still too early. She went through her pack and pulled a few cooking items out, then grabbed a couple of ration packs and set them aside; when it got closer to what she'd approximately guess to be dinner time, she'd start cooking. For now, she was content to sit and stare into the fire and rationalise within herself exactly what it was she was doing here, and what she planned on doing with herself…after. She knew she couldn't keep running, that she'd have to eventually face up to the consequences of her choices, but for now…running was a good alternative.

Then Erevan's voice gently broke through her reverie.

"So, Helene," he began, his voice kind and gentle, but still commanding without being demanding. "Why don't you start by telling me how you came to be here…in this situation you now find yourself in?" He didn't want to push too hard, but he couldn't help her if he knew nothing. "You don't have to give me the exact details if you'd rather not. But…you should tell me enough to help me understand."

Helene's lips pursed thoughtfully as her shoulders slumped a little. Had she thought this might be easy?

 

[Sync]

Chapter 20 - The Confession

It took several minutes for the young warrior to muster the courage – willpower was probably more accurate, if she was honest with herself – to respond to Erevan, and the elven priest was apparently content to wait patiently for her to do so. As the seconds dragged into minutes, he realised that whatever it was that had brough them together, it was bigger – for her, at least – than he might have thought. It was just as well he was good at listening; she was going to need a gentle and unbiassed ear, one that wasn't going to judge her. Lord Torm had seen fit to call her, so Erevan knew he was not going to be able to gainsay his God.

Finally, she took a long, slow breath, held it for a couple of seconds, then let it out slowly.

"A'righ'," she began quietly. "I…I'll tell ye what I can. I won' tell ye all o' it, though – I can't. It…it's no' easy fer me t' speak o' this, bu'…bu' I'll try."

Erevan nodded silently. He didn't need – want – to say anything. If she needed a bit of time to get her thoughts together, then he was going to give it to her.

"A…abou' a year ago, le's say, I was…I was workin' th' caravan o' one o' th' merchant families o' Sembia," Helene began, her voice seemingly distant. To her ears it was her voice, but it didn't feel like it was coming from her mouth. "I was th' leader of th' troop. We'd make regular runs through Sembia – Selgaunt, Saerloon, Mulhessen, Saerb, an' a couple o' other cities. There were rivals, o' course, bu' we rarely tangled wi' them. Mostly they jus' did their caravans an' let us do ours; it was rare tha' we tangled. Rival caravans were never much o' a problem, though; it was th' rival families ye had t' watch fer."

She snorted quietly and continued speaking. "It all went t' hell one trip. Funny how i' only takes one something t' rightly screw things up, i'n't it? We'd off-loaded th' caravan an' stocked fer th' return trip, an' things were goin' jus' righ'. We'd set up camp fer th' nigh', set our watches…tha' sort o' thing. We were good fer th' night. It was a good night – quiet, peaceful, kinda warm. Me men were talkin' quietly, sharin' a drink, an' I was jus' sittin' by mesel' near th' fire, enjoyin' th' rest."

She sighed heavily. "Then we were set upon. We barely 'ad time t' react, t' draw blades, before they were on us. A dozen or so o' them, a dozen o' us. Dunno 'ow the watch missed 'em, bu' 'e did. We were three down before we coul' rally. Th' figh' was short an' sharp, bu' we some'ow prevailed. I'd like t' take th' credit fer it through me demand for discipline an' trainin', but I'm no' so sure 'bout tha'. Wha'ever it was tha' carried us through, we won th' fight. We were down t' four when it was over, me an' three o' me men, an' we'd accounted fer all o' them…or so I thought." She stopped briefly to wipe a tear from her eye.

"We were checkin' th' bodies, sortin' out who belonged t' who, movin' th' dead away from th' camp a bi' when we found one survivor from th' other side. She was no' in good shape, bu' she was breathin'. An' she was from th' other side. She'd 'ave been no older than me, I'd say. She must 'ave been knocked out early in th', given where we found 'er. The rest o' my men, they wanted t'… They were angry. All their friends were dead 'cause of this woman's group. They wanted 'er t' pay fer it. I told 'em no, we'd take 'er back, told 'em t' bind 'er and make 'er ready t' travel in th' mornin'. Then I went t' me tent t' take a potion an' bind me wounds."

She stopped for a moment to take another deep breath, then to wipe a couple of stray tears as they threatened to roll down her cheeks. It was taking a hearty effort on her part to keep her voice steady as she spoke.

"I…I must 'ave fallen asleep or somethin', 'cause I woke up to sounds 'o moanin'," she continued slowly. "Some moans o' pain, some o'…o' dark pleasure, I guess. I left me tent an' found tha' the three o' my soldiers were…were havin' their way wi' th' woman. They'd half-stripped 'er bare, they were all half-naked themsel's, an' they were…they were' rapin' 'er, righ' in front o' me. I yelled at them t' stop, bu' one o' them jus' looked a' me an' laughed, said tha' I was complicit 'cause I was watchin' em do it, tha' it was th' three o' them against me…and tha' she was from a rival family an' needed t' be taught a lesson. The girl, she…she was in no state t' stop 'em from doin' anythin' to 'er."

Helene buried her face in her hands to steady the small sob that managed to escae her chest. After a few slow breaths to calm herself, she continued.

"I should've stopped 'em righ' then an' there…bu' I didn't!" she exclaimed softly from behind her hands. "She was th' enemy, a rival family tha' had ambushed us…but she didn't deserve tha'. But I didn't do anythin' abou' it. I jus'…I wen' back into me tent an' lay down. I took me armour off an' lay down. I could still 'ear 'em out there, bu' I did nothin'. I jus' lay down an'…listened." She brought her hands down from her face as she sniffed, then wiped more tears from her eyes.

"I guess I must've slept fer at leas' a little bit," she continued, her voice starting to show signs of cracking as she opened up. "When I opened me eyes, it was light outside, an' it was quiet. I put me armour on, grabbed me sword an' shield and left me tent. Me men, they…they were just lyin' aroun' the campfire, although it had burned out overnigh'. They must've got to drinkin' a bit – they were still half-dressed, and they were asleep. Th' girl, she was…she was dead. One of me soldiers 'ad cut her throat after they finished rapin' 'er, and they jus' left 'er where she lay. I kicked th' nearest soldier and demanded he get up and start packin' up, told 'im I was gonna see 'im hang for what he'd done to th' girl…an' 'e just' laughed an' told me that I was jus' as guilty fer not stoppin' them las' nigh', tha' if I tried t' bring them down they'd take me wit' 'em. So I…" She stopped, took a slow and shaky breath, released it slowly before forcing herself to continue.

"So I killed 'em. Swung me blade 'ard an' fast at them. They couldn't get their weapons, an' even if they could get their blades they couldn't 'ave matched me. I was th' Lieutenant fer a reason. I killed all three in cold blood because they'd killed 'er in cold blood after they all three had raped 'er. I was far too late in defendin' 'er, so I avenged 'er instead. It didn't take long t' dispatch all three o' them – they were as defenceless as she was…as she 'ad been. An'…when it was done, I dropped t' me knees wit' th' weight o' what I'd done – an' what I'd allowed t' be done – sittin' on me shoulders. After a while I…I go' t' me feet. I grabbed a few things, tried t' scuff th' camp as bes' I could, then…fled."

She paused and finally looked up and into Erevan's eyes. She couldn't work out what was in his face at that moment: he was watching her, sure, evaluating her, maybe…there was a mixture of horror and compassion in his face, she thought, but she'd never be entirely sure. Was he judging her? Possibly. But then…as a priest, wasn't it his duty to judge her? Hard to know. She sighed heavily and continued, her gaze once more dropping to the flames of the campfire.

"I been runnin' ever since," she added softly. "Changed me name, worked caravans as a lowly guard, worked odd jobs in taverns fer pay an' a roof. Bu' through it all I had a dream from Torm tellin' me tha' my destiny was at 'and, an' that I should travel wit' his priest…an' then you show up. An'…so…'ere we are."

She fell silent at that point; she was done. Her soul was spent, her willpower almost drained. Oh, she could certainly move if she had to, but she just didn't…feel like moving. She sure as hell didn't feel like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders with her sort-of confession; if anything, she felt the guilt wrap itself around her again. It was tempting to run again, now that she'd told Erevan almost everything about the events that had brought her to this particular place and time. But…run where? And for how long this time?

Maybe now she'd find out Torm's apparent interest in her.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 21 – The Responding

Throughout the entire telling, Erevan had remained silent. The story had unfolded in a way he'd not expected. Run from injustice, that was a common thread; run from a debt or from a difficult situation, he'd heard them before; but what Helene – he now knew that it was not her real name, but the name she'd given herself seemed to fit her well – had told him was…incredible. It was far too detailed and plausible to be made up. Shocking if true, but there was a conviction in her voice that he couldn't deny. So…here he was, sitting in a cave with a woman perfectly capable of killing him, a woman who had killed before…and who hated – or regretted, maybe both – that she'd done so.

Avenged.

He hadn't missed that word, and for him it was a key word in her story. She might not have thought much of it, but it told him volumes. It told him of her driving motive for her actions; it gave him a clue as to why Lord Torm might have taken an interest in her. As a priest – and a well-ranked one in the church's hierarchy, at that – he was well-versed in the dogma and teachings of Torm's faith…and the woman before him fell right into aspects that Lord Torm found appealing. The problem was…how to address it? She seemed to be a person who'd respect or appreciate a direct approach, but…he wasn't sure. Maybe diving head-first into his thoughts would put her off-side, instead.

He realised she was…waiting, or that's what it seemed like, anyway. She'd stopped talking, and her body language suggested she was at least emotionally drained from the telling of her tale. If anything, she seemed…smaller. Before they'd arrived in the cave, Helene had been bold, vibrant, filled with life and energy, even if she'd been guarded about herself; now, though, after she'd opened up a little, she seemed to have shrunk a bit into herself. Normally, he knew, confessions such as this seemed to lift people; with Helene, it looked to have done the opposite. He sighed softly, cleared his throat gently, then started to speak.

'Hmmm…" he began a little uncertainly, as if trying to quickly gauge how Helene might respond. "First…allow me to say I'm sorry you had to go through that. Having to turn on the soldiers under your command for their mistreatment of others is…always regrettable. I'm not going to pretend I understand what it was like for you in that moment, what you were feeling or thinking. I can only imagine how difficult it was for you." He paused, steepled his fingers together in a thoughtful manner.

"That said…I can understand what Lord Torm must have seen in you that made him call to you. You spoke of 'avenging' the death of the woman. If that was your driving motivation for acting the way you did – not just the need to see justice done for her, but the desire to avenge her wrongful death – then that would certainly get Lord Torm's attention."

"I did read a little abou' Torm in th' library at Highmoon," Helene noted quietly with a brief nod of her head. "But no' tha' much tha' I see what ye migh' mean."

"How much do you know of Lord Torm, Helene?"

"Not a lo', I'll admit," she replied with a shake of her head. "He's th' God o' Loyalty an' Duty, he professes those qualities as well as Obedience, he defeated Bane during th' Time o' Troubles, and he's sometimes referred to as th' patron o' paladins."

Erevan nodded thoughtfully. "There's more to him, of course, but that's a fair summary. Perhaps less-known is that he has little time for those regarded as traitors, and he dislikes corruption in all its forms. There's a lot more to it, but that may help you understand why Lord Torm might have called to you."

"I…see. I think." Helene was beginning to see where Erevan was heading.

"What I think happened, Helene, is that when you…tried…your soldiers, you were acting against their corruption and acting sharply in the name of Justice for the woman they abused and killed. Further, you acted with vengeance on her behalf; you stood to defend – or, in this case, avenge – a person who could not defend themselves. These things serve Lord Torm and further his goals. Without knowing it, you served him well; and Lord Torm, perhaps knowing that you have no particular allegiance to any deity beyond the normal homage and reverence, chose to call you to serve him as one of his own."

The young warrior sat in silence for a moment as she digested this. What Erevan said made sense…at least from his point of view. But why her? She wasn't anything special. She was just the wayward daughter of a self-important Sembian merchant family…a daughter who'd killed her father's own soldiers to avenge the death of a soldier from a rival family. She sighed softly.

"I…I c'n see what ye might be getting' at," she agreed reluctantly. "It's jus'…it's 'ard fer me t' take in righ' now."

"I understand," the priest acknowledged comfortingly. "And if you want to think about it for a little while, I'll understand that, too. Being called to a god's service is not a small thing, and it can be difficult to accept sometimes. Answering that call…? That's often harder. Many people find it easy to ignore the call from one of the gods, preferring instead to live their lives as they have been. Living in the service to a god is…difficult, at times, but also rewarding."

"Hmmm…" the young woman mused thoughtfully. "So…if I did choose t' answer Torm's call…wha' would I do? How do I find out wha' 'e wants o' me?"

"If you choose to heed and answer Lord Torm's call to his service…?" Erevan chuckled softly. "Well…just tell me that you want to do so. I won't do anything further until you choose to accept him. I can answer your questions, I can give you advice, I can try to help you understand…but the decision to answer Lord Torm's call will be yours alone. Once you've done that, I will begin instructing you properly in his faith, his dogma, his teachings and requirements…as much as I can. Once we've achieved a certain point in my instruction, I will prepare and conduct a small service ritual that will allow you to accept Lord Torm's faith into your head and into your heart and into your soul…and then we will discover what Lord Torm's plan for you is. After that, I'll be able to properly guide you along the start of the path that Lord Torm has asked you to follow."

Helene didn't respond for a while, and Erevan could see the young woman was deep in thought. He understood this was an important moment for her, and he would not interfere in it. Of course, he wanted her to accept, but she had to choose to do so of her own free will. Lord Torm would not take kindly to forced or coerced converts.

"What…wha's it like, servin' Torm?" she finally ventured curiously.

"It…it's an experience that's difficult to put properly into words, to be honest," the elven male replied sincerely. "There's a degree of confidence that comes from knowing your god stands with you, and that he grants you the ability to channel a fragment of his power. When he responds to your prayers it can be like a wash of cool water on a summer's day. Channelling his power to cast spells or charge the abilities he grants you is like a rush of warmth you get from standing next to a fire on a cold winter's night. It's those things, and more than those things. It's…difficult to describe with words alone. You need to feel it to fully understand it."

Again Helene remained silent once Erevan had finished speaking. She…thought she could understand what he meant, but at the same time the full import of his words was completely beyond her grasp. She recognised that he felt it was a wonderful thing, but…would she? If she chose to respond to Torm's call to service, would she feel the things Erevan had told her? Maybe her experience would be completely different. It could be…incredible. But it could be…horrible. She rather doubted, though, that a deity like Torm would make serving him a bad experience; it wasn't a great way to win people to you if you made them hate doing it.

There was, really, only one way to find out.

She nodded her head slowly and with purpose, then looked at and let her eyes meet Erevan' from across the flames of the fire. Her face was as close to impassive as she could make it, as if she was trying to reveal nothing…or maybe it was because she was still locked in the process of decision-making and was thinking hard and carefully about the choice before her. Finally she took a slow, deep breath and let it out slowly, her shoulders rising and falling with the deliberate nature of that breath. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, calm, measured

"Very well. I…I choose t' answer th' call o' Lord Torm. Please…teach me 'is ways."

 

[Sync]

Chapter 22 – The Instruction

After their conversation and Helene's request, the pair settled to have dinner – such as it was. It was little more than fancily prepared rations, but it was still trail rations. That Helene was able to apply some of her cooking skills to make them less ration-like was a bonus. They ate mostly in silence, broken by the occasional piece of idle and random chatter. The weather was closing in outside, they could tell from the sounds of the wind blowing and the way the temperature was dropping; the natural wall might be good at keeping most of the wind and rain out, but it did nothing – could do nothing – about sound and warmth. They might not be affected by the weather, but they could certainly hear it and feel it.

After dinner was packed away, they talked a little more openly for several hours. Helene had revealed a lot about herself, although she had still been careful to leave out details that might have revealed her real name and family affiliation; Erevan might not have had a clue as to who she was, and might not have cared if he did, but she felt like telling him could endanger him if he let slip around the wrong ears. She wasn't prepared to put him in that kind of potential danger. Yes, she might be over-thinking things, but the more hidden she was, the less chance of her father catching up with her.

Still, she was happy to be able talk a little more openly about herself and her past life, even is she was still guarded about her identity. It was…freeing, in a way, to be able to talk with less wariness about her details. She told Erevan of life in the private army of the family she served, told him about how she trained and learned skills, told him of her promotions and gaining leadership within caravans. She told him a little of her life in Archenbridge, told him a little of her life in Highmoon, told him a little of her life on the move between the cities…and elsewhere. She was by no means a wallflower; that she wore a solid breastplate with arm and leg guards for hr armour, wielded a strong shield and brandished a longsword with relative ease proved it. She was a woman of strong will, it seemed, and strong convictions, in additional to her strong sense of justice and her desire to ensure justice was done.

For his part, Erevan was happy to tell of life in his elven forest village, tell of how he came to find and become a priest of Lord Torm, tell of his time roaming the Dales assisting with matters of justice where he found them and could assist. It turned out that Erevan became a priest of Torm almost by accident: there was a raid by bandits against his forest village, and he'd taken up arms against the bandits; in the aftermath of the battle he'd gone to each person, elf or bandit, binding wounds, helping with injuries, progressing with both compassion and purpose, driven by his loyalty to his people and his duty as a healer…it was that combination that Torm seemed to appreciate, and not long after Erevan had felt a calling, as Helene had done, to serve the god, a call that the young elf had answered.

They talked for several long hours after dinner, stopping occasionally to get up and stretch, or put an extra log or two on the campfire, or yawn and have a sip of water from a waterskin. They stopped to listen to the wind gusting outside the cave, and the sound of steady rain that was beating its way into the cave's mouth. Daylight had long since faded outside, and when they looked towards the cave entrance from behind the relative safety of the barrier all they could see nothing but blackness, broken only by the occasional flash of lightning. It was a very good time to be inside and out of the weather. Eventually, though, the pair retired for the night and went to their separate tents. Neither changed much for bed; they might be protected from the wind, but it was still cold, and bedrolls and blankets would only provide so much warmth. They settled, though, and soon were asleep, huddled in their respective tents, the wind and rain gusting only a few dozen yards from where they slept.

When Helene woke she was at first confused – she was in a tent, in her bedroll, wrapped in blankets, still wearing clothes, and the ground was hard. Shouldn't be in a tent on hard ground like that, should she…? It felt like stone, not dirt and grass, so where…? Oh… Then the memories came flooding back to her. She was with Erevan…in a cave, a waystation…crossing through the Thunder Gap. Last night she agreed to learn everything Erevan could teach her about Lord Torm.

Lord Torm. Funny how she was already thinking of the God of Duty like that. But…it made sense, now; it felt right. She was…if not eager, then certainly curious to find out what the elven priest could teach of about Torm's faith, the doctrines, the beliefs, the dogma…the history. She was aware that they were only a couple of weeks from Arabel, too – that was where Erevan said his journey would end, so whatever she needed to learn from him, whatever instruction he was able to provide, however he was going to be able to help in figuring out what Lord Torm had planned for her…they needed to get it done by the time they reached Cormyr's second largest city. They'd make good time once they were through the Gap and the Forest, she recognised that much. It was just a question of how much the weather would slow them down, particularly in the mountains.

She couldn't hear a lot from within her tent – maybe that was a good thing? She slowly pushed herself up, struggled out of her bedroll and blankets, pushed the flap of her tent back and crawled out into the cave. Erevan was already up and tending to the fire, and after a nod of greeting followed by words of greeting, she peered outside…and saw that while the wind might have died down, the rain had not. Or maybe it had died during the night and started again. She'd never know and didn't really care that much. She sighed softly and went back to the fire, then set about making the best breakfast she could from their rations. It wasn't much…but it would suffice – it was hot, it was filling, it was nutritious, and beyond that all bets were off.

For the rest of the day the pair sat next to the fire and talked. Well…mostly Erevan talked, and Helene listened and occasionally asked questions. The elven priest began with the history of Torm's faith, how Lord Torm had once been a mortal who had performed great deeds and heroics, enough to be granted the status of a demi-god. Torm joined the gods Tyr and Illmater in their pursuit of good and justice, and the three gods became known as The Triad among the gods. The more-recent history Helene knew, and Erevan went over it in less details, largely filling in the gaps of Helene's own knowledge about the Time of Trouble, how Torm killed Bane at cost of his own life and was later restore by Lord Ao and made a Lesser Deity as a reward. Helene was somewhat surprised to learn that Torm defeated Bane by stealing the life-force of his own followers – a sacrifice made willingly by the devotees – but was relieved to know that it was not considered a crime given that the worshippers agreed to the request, and that the power Torm gained from the sacrifice was then used to defeat the God of Tyranny and Hate.

By dinner time the rain has stopped; it was still dark outside, but there was no wind blowing, no lighting streaking across the skies, and there was definitely no rain. Helene's mind was whirling with the amount of information Erevan had given her during the day, and she was sure she'd forget half of it – at least – when she slept. Erevan was at once both drained and energised from speaking at such length on his faith, but he conceded he needed to rest; Helene offered no objection when he sat back while she prepared another very simple meal of heated rations. She felt it her duty to do him this kindness, given how much he was doing to help her find her way.

Find her way. It was curious how she'd thought of her situation as being a bit like that, now, but she supposed it was true, at least a little. She wasn't lost on a map, but she had her own doubts and was running from a problem that might claim her life if it caught up with her; if Lord Torm could offer her a way to face her particular problem, then who was she to run from that was well? The pair spoke more casually after dinner, and they further strengthened their working relationship. They opened up a little more to each other, got to understand a little more of each other, and while Helene was still careful to not reveal names or places that might properly identify her, she was growing more accustomed to being open about her past with Erevan. Eventually the pair retired for the night, with the hope that they'd be able to resume their journey the next day.

Helene knew she had a lot more to learn, and little time to learn it in.

 

[Sync]

Chapter 23 – The Pass

The rain died off overnight, at least. While it was still quite cool when they both woke in the morning, the wind had died down to a gentle breeze, the heavy clouds had passed, and the sun was struggling to shine through the cloud cover. The ground was wet outside the cave, that much was obvious. The pair decided to continue their travels and, after their meagre breakfast of heated rations, packed up the camp, doused the fire, and set on their way. Helene was nominally in front, as she was generally better-equipped and better-trained to handle direct threats; but Erevan was no slouch in battle either, and was better-equipped to keep Helene fighting.

For the next few days the two followed the East Way through the Thunder Gap. The road wound its way through the mountains as best it could; it was carefully hewn into the rockfaces, cut out to make travel easier, and although it was reasonably-well maintained, it was still difficult to traverse in parts. It was slow-going on foot but manageable; caravans would have moved faster, but would also have been slowed somewhat by the occasional rock-falls and worn edges that they'd have encountered. The waystations were frequent and comfortable, well-protected against the elements. The wind occasionally gusted through the Pass at a great speed; the Pass acted like a funnel for the wind, and it made travelling difficult at times. Underfoot the road was cracked and dotted with small holes; other times they had to content with loose gravel that made keeping their footing tricky.

As they walked, they occasionally talked; although the conversation was mostly Erevan providing information and instruction about Torm, they also spoke of themselves a little. Helene spoke sparingly of her life before The Incident, but still gave some insight into the person she'd been before events had turned her life upside-down; Erevan spoke of his family life and how he'd found Torm's faith almost by accident. Helene spoke of her time in the private militia, her training, her interest in basic carpentry and fighting skills and cooking; Erevan revealed that hi parents had been most disappointed in him when he'd chosen to follow a human god instead of one of the elven gods.

When they camped each night, Erevan provided more formal instruction on Torm, educating Helene at length on the ways of the deity, the dogma and teachings, the edicts and scriptures. It might have been a little repetitive to one who was not interested in the information being shared, but to Helene each lesson provided by the priest just fuelled her desire to learn more…and learn it properly. She sat by the evening campfires with Erevan, listening, asking questions, and trying her best to absorb when the priest was teaching her. Helene conceded to herself that while she'd previously never been interested that much in the gods overall, there was something about Torm's faith and teachings that just resonated with her, such that she was almost enraptured by this new knowledge.

It was just after midday on their third day of travel through the mountains when the pair reached the highest part of the Thunder Gap. Mountains still rose high above them on either side, but they could see the East Way sloping down and away from them in both directions. There was a little flat section of road at the highest point, and an area carved into the mountainside where a caravan might stop and rest for a time, and although they both knew in their heads that this was not the geographical middle of the Pass, it felt like it in their hearts. It was a bright and sunny day when they reached the flattened section, and in the distance they could both make out the trees of the Hullack Forest beyond. They stopped to eat lunch before continuing on their way.

That night they encountered a caravan on the road, heading from Arabel to Highmoon. They met at the waystation not far from the "middle" of the Pass, and the caravan had already stopped for the night when the warrior and priest arrived. The caravan had three covered wagons of various goods with them, and a dozen guards traveling with the caravan master, and the caravan master was quite happy to have the additional company for the night. Stories and news were swapped over dinner and into the night. There was no news of significant import from Arabel; the caravan reported that the city was largely quiet and orderly, as was the nation of Cormyr as a whole. There were the usual squabbles with the Baneites and followers of Cyric, of course, but nothing to cause any dramatic upheaval in the nation. The Throne was reportedly stable in Suzail, which bode well for the country as a whole. The caravan master was glad to hear that the Dales were generally settled as well. It was well into the night before all parties settled down to sleep, with a lone watch set by the caravan to mostly keep the campfire going through the night.

For the next few days the two made their way along the East Way, following the road down the Pass and ever-closer towards the forest. It was odd, in a way, to know that there was effectively a point there the mountains ended and the forest began with no distance between them; it was one thing to see such a thing happening on a map, but it was different to see it with the naked eye. The two continued chatting as they walked, enjoying the fact that the downward passage was easier than the upward passage; they both chuckled at the realisation, knowing that the caravan they'd recently encountered would likely be thinking the same thing. They continued to talk about themselves, each other, and Torm's faith as they walked, and the nightly camps were also continually filled with instruction by the priest. As they talked about Lord Torm, Erevan was still uncertain as to what role Torm had in mind for his companion; she was definitely not cut out to be a priest like himself, that much was certain. The priest could only hope that Torm would reveal that information soon, so he could better tailor his instruction to the young woman he was traveling with.

Finally they reached the bottom of the mountain pass, and the Thunder Gap was officially behind them. In front of them, however, was the Hullack Forest: a large, dark and foreboding collection of trees closely clumped together. Although the road through the forest was longer on a map, the relative flatness made up for it; Erevan estimated it would take them the same about of time to pass through the forest as it took them to cross though the Thunder Gap. They could see where the forest had been cleared to make way for the road, and the road was partially lit through the cleared canopy above it; but the rest of the forest interior, so far as they could see, was only sparingly illuminated by daylight; at night, the darkness would be almost palpable.

"The Hullack Forest," Erevan sighed softly as the two stood at its border, the Thunder Peaks at their backs. "What little I've been able to read on the forest says that it may be haunted."

"Sounds won'erful," Helene noted drily, before looking up as a light misty rain began to fall on them. "So…bein' a caravan route, there could be bandits; bein' a forest, likely wild animals; and now it may 'ave ghosts an' other undead as well?"

The priest laughed grimly. "Aye…all that is possible." He shrugged his shoulders slightly, shifting his backpack to better carry the weight. "With any luck it will be a dull trip through the forest."

The young woman snorted darkly. "My luck 'as been sketchy a' best o' late," she informed her companion. "If I was blessed wit' good luck, I wouldn' be on th' move like I am." She paused and sighed resolutely. "Bu'…we ain' gonna get t' Arabel by standin' aroun' like a pair o' rocks."

"No, we're not," Erevan agreed with a small smile and shake of his head. "After you, Helene…?" The young warrior just shook her head and stepped into the forest, the elven priest right behind her.

I'm jus' tradin' one darkness fer another, Helene thought grimly as the forest engulfed them both.