Lux Tenebris: By the Campfire

            Night had fallen. The near-dark moon provided little light and what little it did shed did not penetrate the forest's canopy.  Iliana and Dero waited for their eyes to adjust to the gloom before proceeding into the wood. Nightbirds trilled and crickets chirped.  Around the halflings, scattered through the woods, campfires began to appear.

            "I guess he really was the last soldier," murmured Dero.

            Iliana said nothing, merely shifted her crossbow to her other shoulder.

            Ahead, familiar silhouettes were gathered around a fire, a little further away from the others. Iliana led the way into the firelight, Dero close behind her.

            The Lightfoot cousins, Oren and Hal Rosering, sat close to the fire.  They glanced up from the leather bag set between them, but said nothing.  They were taking turns, plucking coins or jewels from the bag and adding the loot to their own purses.

            Ajala sat next to the twins, perched on an overturned log.  Whisper, her dire serpent companion, lay in languid coils over Ajala's shoulders and lap. The great black snake's head rested comfortably upon Ajala's silver-gray hair.  Occasionally, she would reach up and feed the beast tidbits from a pouch. Its eyes gleamed like polished emeralds in the firelight.

            Sir Hospin stood a little way apart from Ajala, watching the woman and her beast. He was tall and thin, dressed in silver chain, one gauntleted hand resting lightly on the hilt of his blade, Elfbane.  He nodded at Iliana and Dero but continued to listen to what the final member of their little group was saying.

            She was draped in heavy veils of grayish silver. Only her hands, white as snow, were visible and they moved when she spoke, emphasizing her words with elegant motions. Silver chains hung about her neck, from ceremonial shackles fitted about her wrists, connected to her girdle.  Her name was Yrella. She smelt of jasmine and earth and smoke. Just being around her made Iliana's flesh crawl.

            Yrella turned toward Iliana. "It is done."

            It was not a question, but Iliana nodded.

            "You should have seen her," said Dero. "I never saw anyone so patient!"

            "But it's done," said Hal. He plucked a gold coin from the sack, adding it to his spoils. "Took you long enough."

            "If a thing's worth doing, it's worth doing right," said Oren, choosing a short strand of pearls.  He held it up and admired it in the firelight.

            "Where'd that come from?"
            "Spoils of war," said Hal.

            "I heard talk that the truthspeakers want to send the gold back to Moontree," offered Ajala.

            Iliana settled herself by the fire.  "They try to do that they'll have a second war on their hands."

            "That's truth," said Hal. He fished out a ruby and tossed it to Iliana. "Here, cousin. A reward for your patience."

            Iliana caught the jewel and threw it right back to Hal. "We're not cousins and I don't need fancy jewels."

            "You could buy yourself a new crossbow with that," suggested Dero. "Or get some better armor made."

            "I'm fine as I am," said Iliana.

            The Roserings glanced at one another and shook their heads. They would never understand the Strongarm woman's attitude.

            "So what will happen now?" asked Dero, settling himself beside Iliana.

            "Regarding what, Master Dero?" asked Sir Hospin.

            Dero shrugged. "I don't know. The war, I guess."

            "Whisper and I have heard things," said Ajala. She reached up and stroked her serpent's jaw, prompting it to flow and coil about the old woman like a living piece of shadow.

            "What sort of things?" asked Iliana.

            "Gossip. Rumors.  The northerners are massing an army at Fallen Baramir to march on Calhorne."

            "Good luck to 'em," said Hal. He turned and spat over his shoulder. "Filthy dragonborn. I hope they get pushed back into the Wastes."

            "Will we be joining them?" asked Dero.

            "Some might," said Sir Hospin. "But my order will not. Our duty is here, to the South and the southern people."
            "As is mine," said Yrella, folding her hands together.  "There has been too much bloodshed already. The dead grow restless. They must be soothed lest their agitation rouses greater troubles."

            "I was surprised, lady, when you Gray Wardens chose to involve yourself in the current matter," admitted Sir Hospin.  "You don't usually stir yourself from your ruins."

            "With good reason, sir knight," said Yrella. "The affairs of the living seldom interest us, but the draconic incursion through our territories was impossible to ignore."

            "For everyone," said Oren. "It's why the conclave was called and the pact invoked."

            The others nodded.

            "Now the dragonborn are all dead," said Iliana. "The pact is complete."

            "Meaning what?" asked Dero.

            "We go our separate ways, Master Stout," said Sir Hospin. "I, for one, will be glad to return to Fairhill."

            "And we to the marshes," said Ajala, stroking Whisper's black coils. "What of you, Master Dero? Where are you bound after all this?"

            "Back home to Glasswater, I suppose," said Dero. "I hadn't actually thought I'd live through all of this."

            "But you did," said Oren Rosering. "So why you want to go back to a boring bump in the road like Glasswater is beyond me."

            "And where will you be heading, Master Oren?" asked Sir Hospin. "You and your cousin are from the coast. True?"

            "Blue Shell Cove," said Hal, proudly. "I can't wait to get back. With my share of the spoils, I can finally buy The Angry Frog."

            "What's that?" asked Ajala.

            "Or is it a who?" wondered Iliana.

            "It's a tavern," said Hal, his eyes shining. "Best damn tavern in Blue Shell Cove!"

            "Also, the only tavern in Blue Shell Cove," added Oren.

            His cousin glared at him.

            "And what about you, cousin? Where are you off to?"

            Oren smiled. "Darkwater."

            Hal stared at his cousin as if he had suddenly grown a second head.

            "That's a fair ways away," offered Ajala.

            "What in the Nine Hells are you going to do in Darkwater?" demanded Hal.

            Oren shrugged, smiling a tiny smile. "Oh. I'm sure I'll find something to do in the big city."

            "Keep one hand on your purse and the other on your knife," counselled Iliana. "Darkwater is full of villains."

            "How do you know?" asked Oren. "Have you been there?"

            "Yes," said Iliana, but did not elucidate.

            "And you, Mistress Greenlane?" asked Ajala. "What are your plans?"

            "I'm a Strongarm," said Iliana. "I'll go home to Kalkelak and get ready for the next fight."

            Dero frowned at her. "You think there will be others?"

            Iliana stared into the fire.  "There are always other fights."