Fallen (Part 3)

She scowled down at the new letter, freshly delivered. She knew who it was from, written as it was on a bit of tree bark, carefully rolled and sealed with twine. The delivery gnome had already scampered away by the time she looked up again – he’d been on the job long enough to know when a quick exit was warranted. Several of the taverns other patrons looked at each other in askance, but, seeing the cold, hard face of the dwarf, turned back to their drinks. And their silences.

With a growl she open the letter and read the message within. If anything, the scowl deepened.

Damn it all, she cursed silently, eyes burning with tears of sheer frustration and grief that she would not shed. Stubborn, stubborn elf…

Maybe she should have chosen another. But… who else was there, really? Who else could be trusted with the task, who would not falter? She’d asked Abigayle about her former friends, and the resulting report left few options.

Zeron was gone, off on his own travels, his own journeys for vengeance or redemption, or whatever it was the fierce elf sought. Cylinn had gone off to join with Tarquin’s lot –besides the girl was too soft-hearted for this. Torias was off on one of his mystical retreats. Aynex drank too much. Avehn… no one could find the sneak thief. Zel and Zak were retired to their farm, settled into peaceful marital bliss. Andi. Rane. Aurelie.

Gone, gone, gone.

There were the Boomsticks, but she didn’t know the new leadership, and could not judge what the reaction would be. There were Prydion and Alishe, but they had reportedly settled in Ashenvale with their family. There was the Brigade, but curious gnome minds were difficult to keep focused.

And she’d let him go long before now, before she’d gone off on her addle-brained journey in the first place. Better that, than he see what had become of her now.

The druid had seemed the best choice. She and her fierce warrior sister, the dwarf thought, could be relied upon, if it came to it. When it came. And it would. Sooner or later.

The call will come, little raven. Oh yes, it will. And when it does, you’ll answer. You’ll have to answer. That was the choice you made, after all – wasn’t it? Of your own free will? You’ve none to blame but yourself for that!

The hateful memory clouded her mind once again. She shook herself free of it with a low growl.

But in choosing the druid, she’d forgotten one thing: Lyirdanna was as curious as a cat, as stubborn as a dwarf, and when necessary, as fierce as a bear with a bad tooth. She’d not let it go. She had questions, and would find answers for them – even if she had to pick and pry them out of a stone-stubborn dwarf skull. With pliers and a sledgehammer, if need be.

And it’s too late now, the dwarf knew, gritting her teeth. She has pendant – the key. And I’ll not get THAT back from the elf without a fight, which won’t happen. The gnome will see to it she gets the rest.

“I’ll just have to hope for the best,” she grumbled darkly to herself, snorting in dark humor at that irony.