Make new friends, but keep the old; Those are silver, these are gold.

Joseph Parry

“Thank you for saving me. I am Tira of Calliente,” the blonde she had saved first gave her a pained smile from the blanket she was lying on.

“Sh, don’t talk. And gladly,” she mopped sweat from Tiras brow. She was lying in a line with the boy she had cured and another, probably the driver of the wagon, who had tried to flee and had gotten a broken leg for his troubles.

The priestess meanwhile was praying surrounded by a haze of white light. Adrian the magic-user was discussing something with Torvak. The two archers were busy erecting a tent. The roguish person – Ikett he was called – standing watch beside the destroyed vehicle.

Now that she had a moment she wondered at the cargo and the reason for the arguably very heavy guard containing even two spell-casters. Between a lot of boxes, there was a rectangular shape draped with heavy cloth, looking for all the world like a big bird-cage.

Drained by the constant work and use of magic, she then lied down beside Tira. “Does anything still hurt?”

“It's much better but inside the wound, something seems still torn. It hurts whenever I try to move.”

“I am very sorry that I can't do much for that. Perhaps you could ask Christina when she finishes?”

“Yes I will probably do that, but thank you again” she mumbled exhaustedly.

Somewhere on the other side of the wagon one of the two archers was now butchering the dead horse. Tonalla, she remembered from the brief introductions. The other woodswoman was called Claire and she was her cousin? Something like that. She simply wanted to remain lying down for as long as she could.

Later the camp was ready. Adrian had been on cooking duty to Alyssa's surprise. The food was perfectly serviceable stew, and hungry as she was, it was a very satisfying meal.

“Where were you headed when the monster attacked?” she asked.

“We are a group of Mercenaries out from Saintscrossing. Because of Torvak here we are called the Skulls. Not my first choice of name, but he is the boss. We had been hired to escort the wagon.” answered Adrian who had been friendly enough after she had saved Christina. He was a bit standoffish with the rest of the group, who were not exactly intellectual people and often seemed to rub him the wrong way.

“And where were you taking it? I would not mind accompanying you if it is in my direction. The wyvern drove home again how dangerous this stretch of land is.” Normally there were patrols and even guard stations in between the settlements, but those grew more sparse the further north one traveled focusing more on protecting the border. The mountains hosted a wide array of dangerous beasts, flying ones could come and go at their own discretion and no one would follow them into the craggy peaks without a lot of incentives.

“We wanted to take her, ahem the wagon, south to Firswending and from there to the capital. But with the wagon damaged and the horses fled or eaten…” he raised a fork with a bit of horseflesh steaming on top. “I think we will have to backtrack to Sorringen. A village about half a day on foot to the northeast. You know of it?”

“Yes, I get some cave mushrooms from them sometimes. They have a small clan of dwarves living nearby?” The elder races or simply the Elders as they were sometimes called held a deep feeling of superiority towards upstart humanity but sometimes needs must. The dwarves were driven from their homeland farther to the west by a series of natural disasters and foreign aggression. Kobolds and an earthdragon or some such? And now they recuperated before taking back their ancestral home.

At least they said they would, and were at it, the recuperating part, for the last twenty years. In the meantime, they sold their crafted goods and some mushrooms that they were able to grow in an empty mine.

Adrian sighed “they should be able to help with repairs and there were some farms selling all sorts of animals. Maybe we can buy another horse from there, or two if the other horse is not found soon.”

There was a grunt and a light thud, and then Torvak, who moved very lightly for such a big man, sat down beside them. “Good work with the wounded. Christina uses her magic only when absolutely necessary, so that alone saved us nearly a week of rest. I heard what you said, and yes we will go to Sorringen. You can accompany us if you wish.” his penetrating blue eyes mustered her again “...if you don’t need to return home in a hurry.” He grinned exposing a silvery false tooth substituting for his left upper canine. He gripped a skewer hung with roasted meat and bit into it, scattering droplets of fat. On his neck were several new angry-looking scars from the wyvern's blood.

"Ah, before I forget." He reached into his belt-pouch and handed two golden coins to Alyssa. "And thank you for your selfless help. I mean it."

'The beard probably saved his face' Alyssa somewhat morbidly thought. “Thank you, I will then be accompanying you. It seems I went astray focusing too much on my work. From Sorringen I will have a much easier time getting home.”

The mace-man and his sword-wielding friend, Olaf and Grossar respectively were sitting across the fire talking. Olaf with a bloodied bandage around his head. ‘Needs to be changed sometimes soon, best before he goes to sleep.’ Thought Alyssa.

The roguish Ikett had his knives spread on a small blanket taking them one at a time and inspecting them for flaws against the firelight, then using oilcloth and a whetstone to repair nicks and burrs. He looked up as he felt her gaze and gave a lopsided grin, making a half-bow. Then getting another knife grimacing a bit and gesturing with his right hand, murmuring a spell to mend a deeper break in the cutting edge.

“A toast to the fallen,” called Torvak. “May they hunt forevermore in the forests of Irkonos. May their sorrows be eased by the gentle voice of Ielenia.” The last was said with a faintly ironic nod towards Christina. The dim shapes of the raised earth where they were buried could be seen across the clearing. There lying beside each other were the axeman Lorac, the ranger Valys, the spear-carrying Hargard, and the scribe Tlakan (he had lost his head to surprise and the wyvern).

The firelight played among the branches and threw flickering shadows over the wagon and in the darkness beyond loomed one of the wings of the wyvern. The smaller reddish moon Ioreth was ascendant and in his dim light everything took on softer edges.

Torvak swallowed down an extra-large bite, finished his drinking horn, and stood “get some rest. If the wounded are able we will try to get a bit of marching done.” He looked in the direction of Adrian who was just now reading in a worn book, the edges chased in a silvery-grey metal. “Yes, yes, I will be ready. Do please have the crystal prepared.”

Alyssa lay down on the blanket near Tira and tried to get some sleep. It was somewhat chill for summer. But even summer near the mountains held a bit of harshness. In the night she woke as someone grabbed on to her. Disoriented she looked around and found Tira having sought more warmth pressed to her back.

She was startled by the fact, that she did not mind. Sighing to herself and blushing but secretly glad for the added heat she tried to go back to sleep. Ignoring, mostly, the soft breath on her neck.

The next morning dawned and dew covered her bedroll. It was surprisingly comfortable and warm as she realized she was still quite securely held by a certain blonde-haired spear wielder. “Tira, could you let go. I have to get up.”

“Mmmh.”

“It's really quite urgent. Wake up.”

“Mmmh.”

Wriggling out of the bedroll she went and completed her morning ablutions. Then came back to the camp where the fire was slowly being fed back to life by the last night shift watch, Grossar, who miraculously had been through the whole ordeal without much more than some bruising. The dark-haired and bearded man in his twenties looked up “Morning.” He said quietly. Throwing a sideglance at the tent. “Slept well?” He did not seem to be a man of many words.

“Mh. Thank you for keeping watch.”

“My pleasure.”

Silence reigned broken only by some bird cries and the creaking of wood in the wind. The fire crackled to life and he swung a pot filled with water and some oats over it. He slowly stirred the mixture.

Alyssa sat near the flames thinking about the days that had passed. It might have been the first time she did not feel the urgency to flee as soon as she was awake. It felt nice. “You are quite good for your age. Academy taught?” Grossar asked.

“No, my mother went for the two-year alchemy course. She taught me.”

“Did a good job. Here.” He gave her a tin cup filled with hot gruel.

A figure rose from one of the tents in the back and slowly walked into the brightening light. Brown hair, immaculately white clothes. “I bid you good morning. May the pristine light guide you to purity.” A slight shimmer went from her raised hand. Alyssa felt a painful twinge in her left hand but could effectively hide her wince behind the tin cup.

“Thank you and a good morning to you too,” Alyssa replied.

“Mornin’” came from the direction of Grossar.

Christina spread a small blanket and then sat with her legs folded neatly under her skirt. “I was most positively surprised to find a practitioner of old elvish healing magic in these woods. The goddess provides for us in the most wondrous ways.”

“I am only glad that I arrived when I did and could be of help.” Alyssa averted her eyes from her intense dark eyes. She felt guilty and was sure, that if the priestess knew of her actions, she would be judged quite harshly indeed.

“You will be accompanying us to Sorringen I heard.” Christina continued. “The roads are perilous so close to the heathen north. On our way we had to fend off several dire wolves and even an undead Draugr at the crossing of the river Alsweyr, a day to the north of Sorringen, near the town of Sorveltdt.” she looked serious. “When I return to the temple I will have words about the state of the land. It cannot be born.”

After everyone had been roused and fed, the camp was dismantled and the tents put on the wagon.

Adrian breathed deeply and looked at a complicated-looking circle annotated with arcane symbolism strewn in white chalk on a flattened area of soil. In the middle was put a nearly fist-sized crystal containing a pulsing fire reminiscent of slowly burning fireworks. Sometimes flaring, sometimes dimming to nearly nothing. He opened the book she had seen him read yesterday, and then he began to read a complicated formula while making appropriate gestures with his right hand, holding the book with the left.

The circle began to thrum with power and the chalk began to emit a dark grey light. Sometimes it seemed as if Adrian made a small error and sparks would fly, interspersed by small eruptions of energy at the edges of some of the symbols.

Torvak looked on skeptically.

Alyssa flinched as a crack appeared in the earth radiating towards a large oak a few feet away, emitting some flames and smoke. ‘He probably did not think of the magical resonance with an old and therefore magically significant tree-root,’ she mused.

The circle glowing with a fresh influx of magical power seemed to float where it should have been interrupted by the earthen fissure. It was kept going with the momentum of the force flowing inside.

And then the ritual came to an end. Dirt began to rise into the air forming a hunched over humanoid figure of perhaps two and a half meters height and massing more than double the weight of a horse. The crystal broke into swirling motes of light that were absorbed into the center of the forming mass. Three stumpy legs and one massively disproportional left arm completed the being. Four eyes opened asymmetrically in the chest leading into deep cavities. A rumbling sound made some leaves fall from the nearby trees.

“Ok. Impressive. I did not think you had it in you. Artamenes mentioned you were his best pupil.” Torvak hit Adrian on the back and made him cough. “Now that we have a substitute for the horses we can be on our way.”

After giving instructions in a haltingly spoken dialect of some arcane language, read from the metal-edged book. Adrian looked on with some pride as the earth-elemental grabbed the axle of the wagon and began to pull.

Alyssa winced as the wagon was roughly pulled through some deep ruts, nearly breaking the wheels. “Be careful!”

Some of the wounded, the young man she had treated, and Tira sat at the back of the vehicle swaying with the movement.

The sun had risen completely before they made for Sorringen.