Heroes of the Lance (Inactive)

Game Master EltonJ

"M-mother," she called out in as loud of a voice as she dared. "Momma? I-I'm sorry! I-I don't know what I did to make you mad, but I'm sorry!"

No answer came, and Kalisuel felt the pit of her stomach fall through the ground. She began to sob softly in the night as she wondered what she had done wrong. She wondered if this was punishment for something she had done, and apologized for everything she could think of over and over again. She was alone, she slowly realized. She would never see her mother again. She wept herself to sleep that night, the first of many on the streets of Haven where she'd been abandoned by a mother that could not stand to look at Kalisuel because she always saw the girl's father, a human that died with a elven blade in his belly for his crime against her.

The dawn brought with it hunger and thirst. Unfamiliar with any city, much less a human one, Kalisuel looked around for water and food. She soon found the drinking well for the area and after watching a man on his way to earn his wages drink from it, scampered up to it and drank the water greedily. It was only as she wiped off her mouth that she noticed the stares aimed at her by passersby and merchants and craftsmen setting up shop. Most were only wary, but some bore hostility and hatred, emotions that Kalisuel couldn't understand being directed at her by people she'd never met.

She left the well and moved on, following her nose to a bakery being run by a large woman with arms muscled from years of kneading dough. Kalisuel hid and watched from an alley nearby, waiting for her chance. It wasn't long before she saw the woman alone without anyone else watching her, and figuring that now was as good as time as any, she approached, trying to tell the butterflies in her belly to calm down. She nearly trips when the woman looks up at her, her eyebrows rising in surprise. Taking a deep breath, she steps a few more feet forward and opens her mouth to speak.

"E-excuse me, ma'am, do yo–" Kalisuel begins before the woman's eyes narrow and she cuts her off with a growl.

"Ain't got any fer the like o' ye," she snarled, her face twisted into a mask of anger and disgust. Kalisuel stepped back, shocked by the sudden change in demeanor and frightened by the way the woman now loomed over her.

"But–" she tries to protest, only to taste blood as a backhanded slap cuts the inside of her cheek with her teeth and sends her sprawling on the ground, tears already welling up in her eyes.

"I said I ain't got any fer ye! I can tell by 'em ears, ye got some wickedness in ye! Ain't gonna stand for it," the woman shouted down at her, moving to give her a kick. Kalisuel scrambled to her feet, only barely avoiding a blow that would have left her on the ground screaming in agony from bruised and cracked ribs.

The commotion grabbed several people's attention as they stopped to see what was going on. Two urchin boys, spotting a chance for some fun, hurry over to where Kalisuel was backing away, again trying to plead with the woman as she continued to scream at the young girl for being a wicked soul and how she would never be anything other than a scourge to the city. The boys picked up rocks and threw them at Kalisuel, laughing and sneering at her as she flinched from the pelting.

"Git on outta here, half-breed!"

"Yeah, don't want ya smelling up the city!"

Kalisuel, confused, hurt, and highly upset, ran. The boys chased her, catching her as she tried to duck into another alley. One of them pulled out a small knife he'd stolen as they pinned her on the ground and grabbed her right ear with a painful pinch. The woman at the bakery continued her shouting, calling Kalisuel wicked and worse and egging the boys on, telling them to teach her a lesson in how terrible she was.

"It's not like ya need ears that big," he snickered as he began to cut into the top of her earlobe.

Kalisuel screamed and thrashed, surprising the boys enough for her to get an arm free to deck the one with the knife while kicking and kneeing the one holding her down. She was small, but she was stronger than her age and stature would indicate. Their grip loosened, and Kalisuel ran for her life, believing that they would try to kill her. The boys gave chase, but soon lost her in the tangle of alleys and side streets.

A short while later, as she was catching her breath, she realized what had caused all of the stares and dirty looks she'd been receiving, if not necessarily why. It was her ears. She had to hide them or someone else would try to cut them off.

She reached up to her bleeding right ear and winced as she felt the stinging notch the dull knife had left. Again she wondered what she had done to earn this punishment. She didn't cry. She had no tears with which to cry. She only sighed as a deep loneliness settled over her. She was alone now. She would have to survive on her own.

===

Kalisuel timidly approached the table full of merchants from some far off land. Her shyness was no ruse as the past six months had taught her many lessons about the cruelty of humans. A nasty bruise covered one eye, a gift from a mercenary in a tavern a few blocks over towards the river docks. She gathered her courage and moved closer, her hands out before her.

She looked as pitiable as she could manage, which was quite pitiable, especially with the shiner marring her pretty face. Her hair was a frazzled mess, which helped hide her ears under the kerchief she'd stolen from a laundry line when no one was looking. It was a ratty thing, stained and ragged from years of abuse, but it hide her ears well.

She felt uneasy begging for scraps this way. She'd originally thought to ingratiate herself with one of the shopkeepers, but after being chased out on the end of a broom the first time she tried to ask one of them if she could help disabused her of the notion. Not yet ready to steal, she turned to the one option she could see.

Begging had been hard at first. It made her uneasy, as if she were only justifying the punishment her mother had laid upon her. Hunger, however, could not be staved off with pride. Each time it was a little easier. She was hungry, alone, and with no one to rely on by herself. The scraps she managed to get were barely enough to keep her alive, but she was surviving. That was the one drive she had, to keep living.

"Please, sir," she begged the kindest looking of the group, "can you spare a scrap of bread?"

The man, young and fit from what Kalisuel could see of him, looked a bit surprised, then smiled warmly as he picked up a roll from his plate.

"For a pretty thing like you? Certainly," he said, holding out the roll. She was too hungry to notice the much less welcoming smiles on his companion's faces as they turned to better see the entertainment that was to come. Her eyes sparkled as she began to thank the man.

"If you beg for it properly," he added after a long pause, long enough for Kalisuel to think he was offering the roll. He pulled the morsel away as her face fell, and she frowned in confusion. "You do want something to eat, don't you," he asked, his voice dripping with disdain. "Come now, surely you know how to beg on your knees."

Kalisuel could feel every eye in the tavern turn towards the scene and she saw the man's lip curl into a sneer every bit as condescending as his tone. She thought about running, but she was too hungry, and the roll, warm and buttered, was too tempting. She kneeled and bowed her head, hoping that would help sway the man, though a small feeling in the pit of her stomach told her it would not. It was humiliating enough to beg for food, and her cheeks burned with shame as this made the humiliation worse.

"P-please, sir, m-may I have just a scrap of bread," she begged him.

The laughter around the table sounded warning bells in her head. She felt a boot on the back of her neck forcing her down before she could move. The floor blasted the air from her lungs and she found her breath short as the man put some weight on the foot now planted on her back. She let out a strangled cry as her eyes watered and her vision swam from the lack of air.

"Come now," he drawled, drawing the words out and prolonging her suffering for his and his companions' amusement. "Do it properly. Beg!"

Kalisuel closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath, but it was impossible with the man bearing down on her. She gasped as he ground the heel of his boot into her spine. The scene was drawing more and more spectators. Sanctimonious hypocrites tutting at the vulgar display, yet doing nothing to intervene while they commiserate with each other about the state of the establishment to let such lowly riff raff as a hungry urchin girl in, observed over the shoulders of cruel men and women, just as quick to take a life as spare it, making bets on the outcome.

"P-please," she gasped as she tried to rise enough to give herself some breathing room, "l-lemme go! I'll not bother you again,"

The man laughed and pressed down harder. The crowd stirred and shifted.

"I am sorry, what was that." the man asked mockingly, "I could not hear you!"

The crowd began to roar again before a lone voice cut through it like a razor-edged knife.

"She said ye best be a-lettin' her off tha floor an' apologizin' afer tha dwarf puts ye out laike tha cur ye be," the gruff voice of a dwarf from Thorbardin sounds loud and clear as a trumpet's call.

The crowd turned, expecting more entertainment, only to recoil from the steel-eyed gaze he leveled at the man. He was arrayed as an adventuring sort, armed and dangerous. They backed away, not daring to test the mettle of this one. The man and his companions, however, lacked such wisdom. They glared at the dwarf for interrupting their fun for the evening and shifted in their chairs, readying themselves to lunge and overwhelm the dwarf. All of them were no strangers to violence, being merchants that traveled through the wilder lands of Ansalon. They had no doubts of their ability to take the dwarf in a fight. The onlookers began betting, this time on the outcome of a fight between the dwarf and the merchants. Unlike the foolhardy foreigners, the onlookers knew the reputation of Thorbardin dwarves, and the ones sent out to seek lost treasures and take vengeance seemed to have been distilled until they were exemplars of the entire nation, tough, cunning, and implacable. Overwhelmingly, they bet on the dwarf.

"Well, dwarf. If you would like to join her, I am sure we can oblige," the man replied before kicking Kalisuel hard in the side to knock her away. He sneered at her as she wheezed from the blow. He should have had his eyes on the dwarf.

One massive paw of a hand gripped the man's head by the back of the skull and turned it so that the bridge of his nose hit the edge of the table squarely. Food, ale, and dishes went flying as the table and merchant fell in a heap. The others with the man drew their knives, murder in their eyes.

"Ho now! Ye know tha owner o' this rat'ole don't like his guests guttin' each othah. Why don't ye put tha butterknives down afer ye hurt yerselves," the dwarf told them as he grinned wickedly. The man that had kicked Kalisuel writhed on the ground screaming in pain as he clutched his broken face. The eldest of the merchants looked from the youngest of them to the confident dwarf. It had happened too quickly. Even if they managed to injure him, it wasn't likely any of them would live through the fight to come, he could see.

"This is not finished," he stated as if he were announcing the proclamations of a king while he sheathed his knife, "The House of Kairn will collect on this debt."

The merchants, seeing the man that was their head sheathe his blade did so as well and picked up their agony-wracked companion while looking at the dwarf with hatred and fear in their eyes. Hands more used to counting coins and holding pens than moving great loads of goods struggled to hold onto the writhing man as they dragged him out. The head merchant spat at the dwarf's feet as he passed. "Enjoy life while you still can, dwarf," he hissed in a cold, deadly whisper before stalking out after his fellows.

The dwarf shook his head, wondering at the pettiness of humans as he made sure they left. He had seen entirely too much of the cold-hearted side of humanity since he had left, and he often wondered if it wouldn't be better to leave them to the ogres and drakes. The cynicism only lasted for a few scant heartbeats, though. Satisfied that the merchants were gone, he turned and went to the now softly sobbing girl he'd stepped up to help.

"C'mon, lass. Yer gonna be with me fer a bit," he told her in a gentle, fatherly voice. The kind of voice she'd never heard directed at her. His arms cradled her small frame and he wrapped her in his cloak before heading out into the night to go find a better place for a young waif to get something to eat.

Her sobs slowed as the pains faded, though there was a tightness in her ribs that spoke of bruises and it felt like someone had stabbed her with something white-hot whenever she tried to take in very deep breaths. As they made their way through the winter streets, she tried to fathom what was going on. It was strange to her, to be treated kindly. Her mother had always been aloof.

The thought about her mother brought with it a flood of emotions. Anger, grief, confusion, and longing all swirled and swept away any thoughts she was making. Why had she been left to this life? Surely she'd been punished enough. She wanted to go home! She wanted to sleep in a warm bed again and not wonder if she would be able to eat enough to keep her hunger from waking her at night. It wasn't fair!

She began to sob again, this time from the pains that no medicine could heal. The dwarf looked down on her, concern unseen in his dark eyes as he continued his trek with her in his arms. He had seen several urchins on the streets, but most looked better off than this one. She couldn't be more than seven or eight years old, though he always had trouble judging human and elven children. It hardly mattered with how small she was. He turned his attention back to the streets, letting her be for the moment as he continued on in his tireless way.

The dwarf didn't take long to get to his destination, stout legs able to eat up terrain that even longer legged folk would have trouble traversing as quickly. They came to a small inn with an even small taproom nestled in its first floor, and he kicked open the door to bring her inside as the snow began to fall.

"Elanthiel! I 'ave a need fer yer talents," he called out to an elf sitting at a table with a couple of humans and another elf, wildly dressed with beads and feathers decorating her hair as opposed to her kin's white robes and neatly groomed hair.

"By the Moons! Olund Cragdelver, does the word discreet mean anything to you," Elanthiel groused after nearly jumping out of his skin. He turned to give the dwarf a glower, but any anger he could muster faded as he saw and recognized what it was in his arms.

"Can ye 'elp 'er," Olund asked in a gentler voice as Elanthiel stood and met him as he approached the table.

"Possibly," the elf answered as he noted how Kalisuel favored the ribs that had taken the brunt of the merchant's kick. "I'll do what I can."

"Thank ye. Don't seem right ta let a young girl get beat on laike tha bastards were doin' when I got there," Olund replied as he brushed a lock of Kalisuel's hair from her face.

"At least we have the information we need to proceed," Elanthiel said as he led the dwarf to the rooms they had rented for their stay in Haven. Olund gave a quiet grunt that tickled something in the back of Elanthiel's mind as they made the landing. "You did meet with the informant, didn't you Olund," he asked, his voice holding just an edge of exasperation in it.

"Lass, first. Questions, later," Olund harrumphed, nodding to the now quiet Kalisuel.

Elanthiel frowned at the dwarf, for a moment reminding Olund of his nan when she'd caught him with some sweets that had been cooling on the counter.

"Very well, let's see to the girl," Elanthiel sighed as he opened the door to the room he had claimed. Olund pushed past him to settle the girl down on the bed. Kalisuel whimpered as Olund let go and grabbed his tunic with all of the strength she could muster. She didn't want him to leave her alone, even if he did trust Elanthiel, she didn't!

"It's alright, lass," he assured her. "I ain't gonna go nowheres."

Slowly, Kalisuel relaxed her grip and let Olund lay her on the bed. True to his word, he stayed by her, pulling up a stool as Elanthiel set out jars and tools from a bag on the chest at the end of the bed. Kalisuel tried to watch, but it hurt to move now, and she wanted to curl up to ease the pain that she was starting to feel in her side.

"Now, I'm about to find out where you've been hurt. This will be painful, but it's all part of making you feel better," Elanthiel says as he comes over with a jar of some sweet smelling ointment in one hand. "Do you understand?"

She nodded and gritted her teeth as he went to work. Most of the pains weren't too made, not even as bad as the black eye she'd gotten the other day, but there was one place that caused her to gasp as white-hot agony lanced up her side, her ribs that had been kicked. Elanthiel nodded and continued his examination before starting to apply the ointment to her injury. He chanted as he worked, weaving magic into the mundane medicines working to ease her pain and aid the healing. She felt herself drifting off as he finished wrapping a bandage around her to keep the poultice from being rubbed off. She never her him ask her if she was feeling any better.

A few days passed as Kalisuel got to know Olund and his companions as she healed. Elanthiel, she learned, was a mage of no small talent, and capable of magic that could heal, a rare talent in that godless age. She found him a little too stuffy and his stories were always dry and would ramble on as he gave every possible detail of the people, events, and locations in question. She happened to agree with Olund's often loud and sarcastic observations that the elf could stretch a story that could be told in five words into five thousand.

The other elf in the group, a Kagonesti archer on a walkabout named Widow Blossom, fascinated the young girl, however. Blossom, as she preferred to be called, was only too happy to explain the meanings behind the fringe on her clothing, the silver and turquoise adorning her hair and jewelry, and the feathers that wreathed her head. She loved to tell stories of her home and the legends of her people, and many hours were spent by Kalisuel listening in rapt attention as she wove the tales.

The humans, Arden and Lilia, likewise, held Kalisuel's curiosity. They were lovers, storytellers, performers, and rakish rogues, they sang and performed tricks that delighted the crowds when not talking about their plans for the evening. Talk that often went silent when they noticed Kalisuel was around. One of them would often invite Kalisuel to watch as the other got up to some mischief, mostly targeted at Elanthiel when he was being more prickly than usual.

Olund would stay with her most of the time, telling her of his home and of the adventures he had after leaving Thorbardin to look for an ancient treasure long lost and only now surfacing again in rumors. He proved to be a masterful storyteller, even better than Blossom, who often listened though she had heard them a dozen times before. Kalisuel laughed for the first time in months as he spun the tale of how he and Elanthiel ran into some tricksy fairies, and only laughed harder as he told her of some of the tricks they played when Elanthiel took offense to their observations of his storytelling skills.

Late in the evening about a week after meeting Olund and his party, Kalisuel was heading up to the room she was sharing with Blossom when she overheard Olund and Elanthiel arguing. Unlike in many of their disagreements, they were quiet, voices pitched to avoid being heard from the hall, though Kalisuel's keen ears were able to pick up on the words.

"If ye'd jus' lis--"

"No, Olund, she is too young. An adventuring life is no life for a child," Elanthiel cut Olund off. "We cannot take her with us."

"But ye 'eard 'er, didnae ye? 'Er mother abandoned 'er! Left 'er to fend fer 'erself on tha streets. Tell me, is that any be'er o' a life fer a child than tha one she'd 'ave with us," Olund countered, his quiet voice no less impassioned for its softness.

"We cannot take her Olund. We would only put her at risk. We have too many enemies that would see her as a weakness to exploit, or did you forget your part in adding to their number," Elanthiel explained patiently.

"Yea, but--"

"We cannot watch her the whole time, and I would not take her into some of the places we've delved," the elf continued, rolling over the dwarf's protests. "It is too dangerous. All of us have almost drawn our last in those ruined places."

"Tha lovebirds," Olund began, referring to Arden and Lilia and reaching for anything he could use, "they've been talkin' o' settlin' down an' 'avin' a family. Mehbe they'd take her in."

"That really is not fair to them."

"Then I'd be there! Me clan's waited centuries fer some fool ta find Thordin's 'Ammer. What's anuther decade on that?! I could raise 'er!"

"A lot can happen in a decade. Besides, didn't you tell me that the Cragdelvers sent you out because rumors of the artifact's location were growing more numerous. If you wait that long, the hammer may not be in your reach."

Kalisuel could hear Olund start to protest, but the words caught on his tongue and died as he sighed in defeat. Her heart froze in her chest. She'd grown to like these people, and while she had told herself that she'd have to leave at some point, there was a part of her that hoped she could stay with them, especially Olund. She listened, wondering if the silence would stretch on forever.

"Lemme go see if I can find 'er a 'ome, Elanthiel. She be deservin' o' that much from me," Olund says, not happy with having given in.

"That could take weeks. The trail already grows cold, Olund. Can we afford to wait that long? I don't think we can."

Kalisuel left before she could hear Olund's answer. She felt… angry. It was hard for her to understand why she felt so mad she wanted to cry and scream and break things until she was too tired to do anything. She wanted to find a hole and hide. She wanted to beg Olund and the others to let her come with them. She wanted…

She wanted a home. She wanted a family.

The realization struck her like a lightning bolt, she felt herself shaking as she began to look beyond just surviving to see what it was she wanted, what she desired, and it made it clear just how hollow her life had been in the past several months since her abandonment. She couldn't stand the thought of being alone again, but what was she to do? She couldn't take being abandoned again, not now that she was coming to understand that is exactly what had happened to her.

She stepped into the room she was sharing with Blossom and closed the door. The Kagonesti elf was still downstairs, probably getting some drinks in peace before the night crowds came in. Kalisuel looked to the window and took in a deep breath before opening the shutters and climbing down to the street below. With one last look at what had only been a dream, she stole into the night before her courage could fail her.

===

It had been over three years since she'd been left to fend for herself on the streets of Haven. She bore a few scars, lessons learned since waking up alone in an alleyway. The worst had been the notch in her ear, but a few white lines shown here and there. In some ways it had gotten easier. She was a little taller, a little stronger, and much quicker, allowing her to slip out of trouble that would have caught her before. In others, it had gotten much harder. A seven year-old was more likely to evoke sympathy than a eleven-year old would. Begging was less of an option these days, and she still wasn't willing to die for principle.

That left her with scant choices. Work was never easy to come by as no one trusted a child living on the streets. The work she could get easily enough turned her stomach, even if she didn't know why exactly. No one was willing to adopt her either. That just left theft. She was small, agile, and fast, all traits that made her ideal in the new role she had been given, that of the baiter.

It was not a role she liked, but when one was smaller than everyone else, especially the kid everyone looked up to, one did as she was told if she wanted to eat. She waited for a few guards to be walking the other way before passing them and strolling up to the tables set out by a baker, the same one that had egged on the boys that had notched her ear as luck had it. She never recognized Kalisuel, much to the young girl's relief, but Kalisuel always took a little pleasure from knowing that she was paying the woman back.

She moved with purpose, swiping a loaf just as she passed the table, right under the nose of the baker. The baker screamed, calling for the guards as Kalisuel danced out of the way. This was the tricky part, getting the guards to see you without getting caught. Kalisuel had only needed to see what happened to a kid that was caught once to know that she never wanted to find herself within arms' reach of the guards when they were hunting thieves.

The guards called out and began to rush in, leading to the part of the job that she was chosen to play. She slipped into the crowds and led the guards and the baker away from the tables, leaving them ripe for half-dozen other kids as they swept in from the alleys and the crowd all around the baker's shop.

This particular batch of guards proved to be more tenacious than most. They chased her through alleys and crowded back streets, even a couple of back alley boudoirs belonging to those of negotiable virtue. Kalisuel was growing worried that her luck had finally run out when she tripped and they caught up to her. They were almost upon her when she wished she could just disappear and avoid the beating that she knew would come.

To her astonishment and the guards, she did. Kalisuel hesitated for just a moment before slipping past the guards and into the crowded streets as they fanned out, looking for her in the wrong direction. She slipped back into a shadowed alcove formed by a stack of crates in another alley before she came back into view. It had taken a good bit out of her, but she could feel something that she couldn't before. Focusing on it again, she disappeared. She popped back into view with wide-eyed amazement. She thought only wizards had magic, but she seemed to have some gift for magic that she'd never heard of.

She would have to keep it to herself, though. If the other kids knew, they'd be jealous or want her to use her magic on them. She wasn't even sure if she could, but that wouldn't stop them from begging and pestering her about it. Worse, they might tell someone for some coins, then who knows what would happen. She'd see a few others who'd been rumored to have magic about them disappear to never be heard from again.

She could still hear the guards shouting and cursing at one another as they searched for her. The warm loaf filled her hiding place with the aroma of freshly baked bread, and her belly growled. Deciding that there was no better time to enjoy her earnings, Kalisuel devoured the loaf as only a hungry waif from the streets could. As she listened out after finishing the loaf, she heard the guards move on, still looking for her. The crowds on the street never noticed her slipping back among them.

That evening as she settled into a nook she'd made her home between a chimney and the eaves of another building, she began to wonder about the spark of magic she could still feel. She could no longer turn invisible she discovered when she tried again. Wondering what else, if anything, she could do, she began to explore the paths that now lay open in her mind. She found she could summon motes of light that would dance about at her whims when it grew dark. Wondering if she could create fire almost ended in a burned hand, but she managed to snuff the burgeoning flames before they could do more than char a corner of her blanket. That lead to another couple of discoveries, namely a spell that wove the broken threads whole again, replacing the bits burned away by her mishap and a spell that could do a number of things as she played with it, but most importantly to her, would clean anything to make it as if it were freshly laundered. Her excitement at her newfound talent was tempered by the reminder of the missing children. She drifted off to sleep wondering how she could use her talents without drawing attention to herself.

===

Autumn was crisp in the air. The smell of woodsmoke from fires to keep houses and shops warm filled the air and tickled the noses of those passing through the streets. Kalisuel was not enjoying it as she normally would. A brute of a boy, named Darlo and a few years older than she, had stolen most of what she had and claimed her nook she had been living in, leaving her with only the thin dress that, while in good repair thanks to her magic, was far too light for the coming cold. She would need something warmer if she was to survive the winter.

She supposed she should be grateful that she was able to mend her injuries thanks to her magic, though she could have done without the beating Darlo had given her that led her to discovering that aspect of her talents. A cool breeze cut through the dress and raised goosebumps on her skin. She tried to warm up her arms and hands, but it was a losing battle against the coming chill.

On the breeze came also the sounds of music and song. Following the sound, she found a group of minstrels singing, playing, and dancing while a couple of men told the crowd to come to Palodoro's Taproom to hear more. She hardly paid the criers any attention, her sole focus being on the playing band. She let the music sweep her away and as a particularly lively tune started up, she danced to the music. It was only as the song ended and she heard several of the crowd chuckling did she realize that she had danced right into the middle of the band.

Luckily, they laughed it off.

"Well, little dancer, would you care to join us for a few more songs," an old man with grey and white hair and playing a bodhran asked. His grinning teeth showed from beneath his bristly moustache.

"She is certainly better at keeping time than you are, Balen," a young woman playing the tin flute jested.

Kalisuel looked from them to the others, seeing delight and mirth rather than the scowls she had feared. The crowd behind her egged her on, telling her to dance some more. She felt embarrassed, but strangely happy. Was it because these people were happy she had danced to their music? She didn't have time to ponder the question before she realized she needed to answer them.

"I-if that would be alright," she told them, her voice quiet as if speaking too loudly would wake her from the dream she had to be having. The musicians cheered and struck up a merry tune. Kalisuel found the rhythm and began to dance with the music. She was unpracticed, but graceful enough that her mistakes didn't disrupt the flow of her movement. The crowd was delighted by the entertainment, and a couple of hours passed before Kalisuel had realized they had.

"For you," Balen said as he handed her a dozen silver and copper coins, more money than she'd ever handled in her life. She started to protest, but was cut off when the young woman added a gold and told her, "You earned it. It was a delight watching you."

Kalisuel stood there dumbstruck for several long moments before she realized that she was gaping at the coins in her hands.

"I-I can't accept this! I just–"

"You just did what comes naturally," the woman said, as she kneeled down before Kalisuel so she could look her in the eyes. "That's the beauty of music. It inspires and encourages without being preachy. Now, c'mon, it looks like you could use something to eat, and I know where you can get a warmer dress for pretty cheap."

"O-okay," Kalisuel agreed, not knowing what else to do. She followed the woman and Balen to a stall where they bought her some meat and vegetables wrapped in a flaky crust. The food was delicious and it was hard for Kalisuel to not just wolf it down as she had learned to do with her stolen meals. After the meal, she found herself in a small consignment shop filled with an eclectic mix of clothing for all kinds. After some help from the woman who owned the store, she had a new dress with a belt and purse to hold the few coins she had left. Coins that soon went to buy a warm blanket.

She found another place to sleep that night. It was not as nice as the nook she had before, but still warm enough and sheltered from the wind. As she settled down, wrapped up in her new blanket, she wondered if she had found a way to survive without stealing. She liked to dance, but she could also sing and knew a few songs her mother had taught her before she had abandoned her. Maybe she could do as the minstrels did. It would be nicer and less stressful than stealing every meal, she thought.

Contented for the moment, she turned towards the warm chimney and drifted off to sleep.

===

Kalisuel spent the next few days watching the various minstrels, troubadours, dancers, players, buskers, and troupes to learn how they performed. Her fascination with them grew as she watched. She listened and tried to match their performances, practicing on the rooftops and in the alleys she watched from. After the fourth day, she steeled her nerves and resolved to try earning some coins on the morrow.

She awoke in the predawn gray and set up a small spot for her to sing and dance in at the edge of the square she'd noticed had a fair number of performers all earning coin. She felt as if butterflies had spawned in her stomach and she worried that she would be offending the older and more experienced musicians and entertainers that also performed here. A deep breath helped calm her, though her nervousness remained. Much to her surprise, she found a number of the other buskers tossing a coin or two her way as she sang. A couple even asked if they could join her throughout the day. By evening, she'd earned enough for a hot meal and a place to sleep indoors. As winter closed in, she spent more time inside the taverns and inns, helping to serve the patrons between her times performing. The work was hard, but Kalisuel smiled, overjoyed at not having to steal just to eat.

Over two years passed this way, with her drifting from hearth to hearth as she sang and danced. Her natural charm helped her smooth over any mistakes on her part. She enjoyed learning new songs and dances whenever they would come up. She was even taught a few lessons by trained bards that would pass through the tap rooms she performed at. Part of her still felt unsatisfied, however.

She was passing through the Artist's quarter, aimlessly wandering the city of Haven when she heard an older man call out her name. She turned, surprised and curious, to see a balding, gray-haired man with a barrel-like torso coming after her from a small tavern she'd passed.

"Ah, young miss," he said, a friendly, bemused smile on his face, "You are named Kalisuel, yes?"

"I am, but I don't think I have ever met you before," she answered. "Did I become famous and no one tell me?"

The man chuckled at the joke, some of the awkwardness he was feeling leaving him and he relaxed a little.

"No, I'm afraid not. I was asked to keep an eye out for you by a friend," he explained. "I would like to give you a comfortable place to live and steady work for pay. I know that the patrons of my tavern are not as rough as you have seen, and I think they'd be delighted to have you sing and play for them. What do you say?"

Kalisuel took a moment to think through what she was being offered. Her mind froze for a moment as she couldn't comprehend what exactly was going on, then she thought about the past several months. How she wanted something more. Then it dawned on her. A family, the man was offering to take her in, to give her a family of sorts. It was the one thing she'd never had. Even if it wasn't at least she'd never have to worry about her next meal or where she would be sleeping again.

"I would like that," she answered in a slow, thoughtful tone.

===

"I'm sorry, sir, but we're not open right now. We will be in about two hours, though," Kalisuel told the tall man dressed in well-tailored clothing and carrying a case. She'd looked up for a moment, but was back to her cleaning. The months since she'd started working at the Painter's Spirit had been markedly happy ones. Her thirteenth birthday had been celebrated by Bartolomy, the old man that had taken her in, and the other staff that she'd come to see as family only a week after she had started. It was the first time anyone had celebrated her birth, and she was embarrassed to admit she cried when they first sprang the surprise on her. She hummed while she worked, a mischievous ditty about a girl and a mouse that played pranks on the girl's wicked step-father.

"Ah, you must be Kalisuel. Bartolomy told me much about you. Say is he around," the man replied, a warm smile on his face as he made his way to the bar. "I am Talus Featherwind, if he asks. I believe he is expecting me."

"No need to fetch me, I'm right here," Bartolomy said as he walked up from the kitchen where Dali the cook was busy preparing for the first rush of visitors. "Hello Talus, I see you got my letter."

"Indeed. I would be happy to teach her how to play. I still owe you for that favor you did for me," Talus laughed as he looked at Kalisuel as she returned to her chores. "If she does everything with the kind of zeal she showed me when I walked in, she'll surpass my skill in no time at all."

Kalisuel listened as she worked, wondering what was going on. It sounded like it had something to do with her, but she wasn't sure what it could be. Talus was to teach her, she knew that much, but what and for how long she didn't know. She shrugged as they turned to other topics and she continued to work, humming as she went about her business.

"Kali," Bartolomy called her, "Come here lass, it's good enough for now. I'd like you to meet Talus. He's a musician that's agreed to teach you how to play a few instruments."

Kali looked from Bartolomy and Talus as she walked up. She gave Talus a curtsey as she had been taught when she first started working in the Painter's Spirit and gave the expected pleasantries.

"Well, Kalisuel," Talus said, grinning like a boy who has something neat to show his friends, "how would you like to learn to play the violin?"

The next several months saw Kalisuel learning several instruments from flutes and whistles to violins and lutes to drums. She had a knack for music, but the skills and techniques needed to play such instruments were hard won. As she learned to play, her confidence grew and her performances at the Painter's Spirit became a favorite feature for the regulars. More than once she thanked Bartolomy for the lessons he had paid for, but the old man always brushed it off as repaying a favor or a good investment in his business.

One night, just over a year after Bartolomy had taken her in she heard a naggingly familiar voice coming from the door as they were closing up for the night. She turned to see one of the other girls that served the patrons wave Bartolomy over. She saw the shape of a dwarf past the door as Bartolomy passed through, but could not see any of his features. She continued to clean the place, but part of her wondered what Bartolomy could be doing.

"Excuse me, sir," she asked him as he walked past her after finishing his conversation with the dwarf, "who was that?"

"Just a friend," Bartolomy answered with a smile, "He wanted to ask me how things were going. There's no reason for you to be worried," he told her as he ruffled her hair. Kalisuel laughed and swatted his hand away. Bartolomy had more than earned her trust. If he said that there was nothing to worry about, then she wouldn't worry.

It was nice not having to worry, she had found, and she hummed contentedly as she finished her chores.

===

Darlo glared at the Painter's Spirit from the alley he hid in while watching the place. The brand on his arm itched and stung, but he resisted the urge to scratch it. He used the pain to stoke the flames of his anger and hatred, savoring their bitterness like some heady brew. It galled him how easy things came for the runt wench. He'd fought and scraped for everything he had, and she just waltzed wherever she pleased and was practically handed whatever she wanted. He'd chased her out of the hole she'd made into her home, and beaten her when she had taken what was his by right.

He'd hoped that the cold would have killed her off, but no, the stubborn slattern had danced her way into coin and bought herself a pretty little dress! That was when he realized how much he hated her. Everything was too easy for Kalisuel. He'd tried to teach her another lesson in the harsh realities of life, but the guards in the quarters she sang in had already learned his face and harassed him too much to make that plan work. His luck in finding her new hiding spot was no better, and he felt things fester until he thought he thought he'd burst like an overripe melon any time he thought of her.

Then she disappeared. After a couple of weeks, he figured she was dead, and he only wished it'd been his hand that had snuffed the life from her. He'd been working his way up the ranks and into being a full member of the Broadside Boys, the most feared gang in the east quarters of Haven. He had what he always craved, power, respect, and whatever else he felt like taking. His brutal murder of a rival gang leader and the cowing of its remaining members into joining the Broadside Boys had earned him a place as a full member. Life was good.

Then she showed back up in his life. She was walking down the street towards the Artists' Quarter, and all of the old rage and hatred flaired back to life. He leashed it though. He had power. He had respect. He could be patient and plan out a proper punishment for her. He learned where she lived and worked, and that the old man who owned the place doted on her like she was his daughter. Darlo allowed himself an evil smile at the thought of what would happen to the dumb wench the first time the old man got uppity.

Yes, everything would be coming into place. Darlo would break that little harlot and enjoy every moment of it.

"How's et lookin' Darlo," one of the toughs he'd made his lieutenant asked as he came skulking up.

"Just the two o' 'em and a few fops. We'll have no troubles takin' the place," Darlo replied, feeling a heady rush he enjoyed as the time drew near.

"Vilo has the back door. Ready any time he hears the party start. All the guards are lookin' elsewhere this evenin'. Somethin' about a terrible killah on the loose," Darlo's second grinned evilly and Darlo chuckled at how easy it was to avoid the guard when you knew who to bribe.

"Well, let's not keep Vilo waitin' too long then. I'm sure the poor bastard's about to wet hisself," Darlo replied to a chorus of quiet, malicious laughter.

===

Kalisuel jumped and spilled the tray of drinks she was delivering to the one table with more than two patrons at it in the tavern when the door slammed open and rattled the drinkware on the bar.

"Alright, e'eryone out, now! We're rentin' this place out for a private party," the man that kicked the door in shouted into the stunned silence.

She didn't know why, but she felt herself growing more and more alarmed at the sight of the man. He was naggingly familiar, but she couldn't place him, and something told her to run. She would have if not for Bartolomy who was stepping out of the kitchen and moving with purpose to the group of rough men, all of whom were grinning like wolves with the scent of blood in the air.

"Now see here! I will no– OOF!"

Bartolomy's protest was cut off as one of the men that followed the familiar one slugged the aging tavern keeper in the mouth. Bartolomy was made of hardy stuff, but he was not in his prime, those days decades past. He staggered back into the bar as the others that followed the first two began dragging the patrons from their seats and throwing them out the door.

"That's not how this works, old man," the man that Kalisuel couldn't quite place told Bartolomy in a voice that oozed condescension. "You do as we tells you, and your pretty little serving wench doesn't have anythin' bad happen to her."

Kalisuel felt her heart stop as she realized this wasn't some robbery. No, she had seen this several times before she had been taken off the streets by Bartolomy's kindness. A gang was taking over new territory, but she could only guess what the plan was here. She took a step back meaning to run get the guards when another crash announced the arrival of more of the gang's members. She changed her mind about trying the back door and started to bolt for the stairs.

"Not so fast sweetheart," one of them said as he chased her down. He caught her as she tried to make the turn up the stairs and half-shoved, half-tossed her away from them. His hands guided her none-too-gently towards the first group as she felt herself shivering from the terror she felt washing through her like a roaring breaker.

"Get your hands off of her," Bartolomy bellowed before turning to the still open door and opening his mouth.

"GUAR– ulk!"

A dagger sliced open the tavern keeper's throat. He choked on his blood as the thugs around him laughed and watched him lunge for their leader, determined to take the man that had killed him down to the grave with him, but determination is a pale thing when compared to the specter of death. He collapsed to the ground and continued to gurgle for a few heartbeats more, then was silent.

Kalisuel stared at the corpse of the man that had taken her in and cared for her. She felt a thousand regrets come, a thousand things she wanted to tell him, but could never find the words to do so. She felt her knees go weak, but she pushed the grief aside, hoping for a chance to escape. She had to be ready.

"Well, my li'l tart," the man she couldn't place before said as he grabbed her chin and made her look up into his face, "seems I've found your li'l hideaway again."

Again? Kalisuel's mind felt like a pile of tumbled bricks as she tried to figure out his meaning, then her eyes widened in surprise and fear. Darlo! This was Darlo, and he'd come after her again!

"Who did you spread 'em for to move up so high, tart," he asked as he traced the cord in her bodice with his finger. Then she was roughly shoved to another of the brutes now surrounding her. They toyed with her, preparing themselves for the fun to come, but Kalisuel saw her chance. She turned her back squarely to the man aimed at the door and let him push her so she could use the momentum to leap onto the one obstacle between her and the door. He fell backwards as she planted her feet on his shoulder and face and launched herself into the night.

===

Olund walked along with a sour expression on his face. Blossom was to his left, listening, but not saying a word as he and Elanthiel argued. They always argued, so much so that Blossom was now used to the lively debates and found them more entertaining than annoying. Lately, however, it seemed that a young slip of a girl was increasingly a sore point with them. Blossom had come to like these two, but she wasn't much of a mediator. Her mother and siblings were all much more skilled in those arts than she. She, after all, took after her father, a hot-tempered scout that was known for his sharp tongue. She sighed as both the silvanesti elf and the thorbardian dwarf retread the same old arguments and rehashed the same old points as before.

Though, if she were honest, she agreed more with Olund in this than she did with Elanthiel.

"You can't keep obsessing this way," Elanthiel scolded, "she's one human girl that, need I remind you, ran from us! What do we owe her, Olund?"

"I didn't ask ye ta come wit' me," Olund groused. He wasn't wrong, Blossom noted with an amused chuckle. That hardly stopped Elanthiel.

"I stand by my question. What do you owe her? She ran from us," Elanthiel snapped.

"Only 'cause she thought we were gonna abandon her," Olund snapped back, his ire rising for a moment. "She musta over'eard us talkin'," he added much more quietly.

"Please, Olund, we've been over this. She's a street urchin, a waif. Those kinds simply don't have the capacity for such attachments," Elanthiel scoffed. "I wouldn't be surprised if she's long gone from Bartolomy's care. In fact, she probably robbed him blind. I-- Olund, are you even listening to me?"

Blossom barely noticed the change in Olund's demeanor. She had begun feeling uneasy before now, and she was willing to bet the dwarf was noticing the same things she was. The streets were practically empty. The guards were nowhere to be seen. The night was eerily quiet.

"Olund--"

"Shush," Olund said, raising a hand towards the elf to signal for quiet. "Do ye notice how quiet tha streets are?"

"I do. Something is wrong here," Blossom answered as she moved up to take the point position. Elanthiel had finally noticed what they had, and was silent as they made their way forward cautiously. The minutes stretched out, fraying their nerves.

"HELP! PLEASE! SOMEONE! ANYONE!"

The cry was close, coming from the direction they were heading in. Olund took off at a run while Blossom followed swiftly on his heels. Elanthiel hesitated, but only for a moment before he, too, ran towards the cry of distress. The trio rounded a bend to see a familiar young woman running towards them with a gang of kneebreakers close behind.

"Kali? Is that ye, lass?"

The woman's rounded eyes widening just a bit more as she recognizes the party before her. She doesn't have to be reminded of the gang closing in on her as she glances over her shoulder before looking back at the people that had helped her once before.

"P-please, help me," she begged them, "th-they'll kill me!"

Blossom gave a wolf's smile. She needed no encouragement to help against thieves and cutthroats too ready to kill. She felt Olund push the girl behind them as the gang slowed and appraised her and her friends' stance and confidence. Foolish. They were like small pups thinking about wrestling with an alpha and her companions. They wore no armor, nor did they carry anything larger than a dagger.

"Best be leavin' that one," the leader of this pack of curs brayed in what he must have thought was a threatening voice. "She's all we want, we have no quarrel with you."

Olund scoffed and pulled his unlimbered axe to the front to gently slap the haft into his hand in an old, practiced motion.

"Ye not be takin' 'er," the dwarf growled, "she be comin' with us."

"Big mistake, dwarf," the leader growled as he and his pack lunged forward.

Big mistake indeed, Blossom thought as she snapped her bow to the ready and sent two arrows streaking over the cobbles to slam into a throat and a chest, dropping two of them. A third fell to Olund's axe and the leader of the pack nearly joined his dead comrades. He saved his life by drawing up short, but not his eye as he screamed bloody murder into the night. The other four stopped as Elanthiel conjured fire in his hands.

"Who's ready to die next," he asked calmly, though Blossom knew he had a devilish grin on his face as he looked down on the remaining thugs.

Their heart for the fight gone, all five of them scrambled off into the night. The one-eyed leader hurled a promise of vengeance, but like most who made such promises, Blossom doubted he had the will to follow through on it. She kept an eye out for more trouble for a moment before relaxing a bit and turning towards the girl that they'd saved, and the girl that had been the subject of so many arguments over the years. Blossom's expression softened as she saw haw badly she was shaken. She didn't know what happened, or what the girl, oh, what was her name? Kal-ee? Yes, Kali, or something like it. She didn't know what Kali had narrowly escaped, but she could guess.

"Lass! What 'appened," Olund asked, dropping his axe and turning to tend to Kali. "Are ye 'urt? Who were they? Where's Bartolomy?"

Kali looked stunned through most of the questions, but the one about Olund's old friend, the owner of the Painter's Spirit, Bartolomy, had broken through to her. Kali's face crumpled as she began to wail and sob in grief.

===

"She's got nowhere else ta go! Whaddya want us ta do? Kick 'er out on the streets," Olund growled as he stared Elanthiel in the eyes with ones that looked like blazing coals.

"She cannot come with us," Elanthiel stated flatly, his overly controlled voice and reddened cheeks signs of his rising anger. "Besides, she obviously did not want our help before, why would she want it now?"

"I'm tellin' ye, she 'eard us that night. She thought we was gonna put 'er out on the streets!"

"You are only guessing, Olund. She could have run away for any number of reasons. I for one am not surprised she ran back onto the streets. Like gathers with like, after all," Elanthiel spat, his self control slipping as he heard the same argument he'd been hearing from the dwarf for over a year now.

"Bartolomy told me 'imself. She moves like a damned cat when she wants ta. Lookit 'ow small she is! She probably had ta learn ta move that way just ta survive! She coulda easily been at tha door that night," Olund grated through his teeth, the words coming out like chips of flint, hard and sharp.

"I think Olund is right," Blossom told Elanthiel, drawing the attention of both dwarf and elf as she entered into the argument for the first time. "I also think we should ask her what she wants."

"What she wants? She is a child! I do not care what she says her age is! Even if she were not a child, she did not want our help before, and I would presume that she would not want it now! NO! I will not let her into this band," Elanthiel proclaimed, making his stance clear and firm.

"Last I checked, it was not your decision," Blossom told Elanthiel flatly, her eyes narrowing as the elven wizard crossed dangerous lines with her.

"She is a parasite, a leech! Who knows how much she took from Bartolomy before he died," Elanthiel seethed, "She is from the streets! She cannot be as pure as you two seem to think. We should leave her here where she can do us no harm."

"An' 'ow would ye know 'er, eh? Ye ain't even willin' ta get ta know 'er," Olund shouted back.

"Because I have seen her kind a thousand times! They are all the same. Those born to scum become scum themselves. Mark my words, she will rob us blind, if not worse," Elanthiel bellowed quite impressively for his frame.

"No I wouldn't," a soft voice cut through the argument like a knife, silencing everyone as they turned to the unexpected voice. Kalisuel stood in a nightgown with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyes were rimmed with red and tears glittered on her cheeks. She was upset, that much was clear, but the glare she leveled at Elanthiel was a sign of the boiling anger she felt.

"I could hear you from the room," she explained as the three of them looked at her, stunned into silence.

"Listen, Kalisuel, you really should be commended for–" Elanthiel started, putting on what he must have thought was a soothing, calming voice, that came across as patronizing.

"Don't treat me like I'm a slow-witted child," she snapped, "You don't like me, I can tell that much, even if I don't know why. I appreciate what you did for me those years ago, but that does not mean I will accept this abuse and slander from you!"

The room went deathly silent as the tension filled the air as thickly as smoke. Olund looked from Blossom to Kalisuel as she glared at Elanthiel. He rubbed his thumb over his fingers nervously as he licked his lips. Blossom only watched, readying herself in case violence broke out. The fire crackled in the hearth, an oddly merry note to a scene of powerful emotions and pain.

"Kalisuel," Olund said, his voice calm and quiet. Despite its softness, it broke through to the young woman and she blinked as she focussed on the dwarf.

"Would ye like ta come with us," he asked her, "ye 'ave me word that ye'll be safe. Ye need not worry about Elanthiel. He'll learn tha truth o' ye soon enough."

"WHAT?!" Elanthiel roared as he shot up from his chair, his hands slamming on the table with a crack. "No! I refuse to have her accompany us!"

"Then leave," Olund told him, now leveling a glare of his own at the elf. "Tha choice be 'ers, not yers, Elanthiel."

Elanthiel's face turned puce as he shook with impotent fury. He turned and stormed out, nearly knocking Kalisuel down as he passed her. He turned for one final parting shot.

"You will regret this dwarf," he sneered, "Mark my words, you will regret this night!"

He turned and left, slamming the door as he walked out of the inn they were staying.

"Good riddance," Blossom grumbled as she relaxed in her chair and turned her attention to Kalisuel. "Do not mind him, Kalisuel. He is young in body, but ancient and bitter in mind and soul. Now, will you join us?"

Kalisuel looked from Olund to Blossom, not able to speak as her raw emotions overwhelmed her. She nodded as Olund stood and guided her to a bench in the empty taproom.

"It's okay, lass," he told her, holding her as she shook then sobbed into his shoulder. "It's okay. Let it all out now. Yer safe, now. Yer safe with us."

===

They never saw Elanthiel after that night. After a few days to settle the matters of Bartolomy's death and the notification of his two surviving children of their father's passing, Olund, Widow's Blossom, and Kalisuel left Haven for the next stop on the road, a sleepy dwarven and human village to the southeast, between the Tharkadan Mountains and the coast of New Bay. Kalisuel was quiet most of the trip, though sparks of her old self would show through. A silly song here, a joke there, or some funny story told as they walked along. Blossom grew fascinated with Kalisuel's journal and the sketches she had done.

After about a week of travel, they arrived in Bellows and came to the door of the Nightdancer's Cup. Kalisuel followed Olund in, curious as to why this place. It was new, relatively speaking, from the look of the timbers. She always thought dwarves liked old things with proven records.

She soon understood as she saw Arden and Lilia come to greet the trio along with a gaggle of children, the eldest a young lad of seven and the youngest still a babe, though old enough to hold her head up and look around. They gave Olund and Blossom bone-crushing hugs before stopping and looking at her with curious expressions.

"Aren't you–" Arden begins to ask before Olund clears his throat.

"The young lass is Kalisuel. She's joinin' me and Blossom in me 'unt fer Thordin's 'Ammer," the dwarf explained.

"I guess Elanthiel left then," Lilia more stated than asked.

"He did. We will say no more of him," Blossom said, nodding slightly to Kalisuel.

"Well then, I guess you're here to find some fresh blood," Arden observed as he guided the trio into the tavern and inn. Kalisuel looked around at how big the place was. She'd been in many taverns, but they were hemmed in by the city. Compared to those places, this was a grand palace in her eyes. The wonder was banished from her face as she felt a tug on the leg of pants. Looking down, she found one of the little toddlers looking back at her.

"Awe you wonna we ouw new wib siswer," he asked.

"No," she laughed as she knelt down so he wouldn't have to crane his neck, "I'm not your new big sister. I'm here with Olund and Blossom."

"You've been adventuring with Uncle Olund and Aunt Blossom?!"

"Have you fought a dwagon?"

"Are you a princess?"

"C'mon! Tell us! Tell us a story!"

Kalisuel found herself mobbed by almost a half dozen little children as their interest in the young woman nearly trebled.

"Uh," Olund and Arden both began to say when Blossom held out a hand to stop them and smiled.

"It's fine," she assured them, "Watch and listen."

Kalisuel looked around and smiled as she saw the eager faces waiting for tales of adventure and excitement. She felt more like herself than she had since Bartolomy was murdered before her eyes. Dragons, Princesses, and adventure.

"I haven't fought a dragon, no, nor am I a princess. I have meet both a dragon and a princess, however," she told them as she watched their faces and began to weave her tale.

Olund relaxed as he saw some of the girl he remembered show through the grief and listlessness. Kalisuel spun her tale as he watched a little longer then looked to Blossom. She nodded then returned to watching Kali weave her story and enthrall all of the children and even Lilia.

She would be alright, Blossom knew. She would be just fine.

===

Kalisuel spent the days they stayed at the Nightdancer's Cup singing, playing, dancing, and telling stories to both children and patrons. The routine helped her move past some of the grief she felt. Arden, Lilia, and their children adored the tales she wove for them during the day. For a little while, things felt normal for Kalisuel.

Olund, as grateful as he was for the opportunity Kalisuel had to heal, was eager to see the road again. He spent several long hours with Arden and Lilia thinking of mages to hire for their quest. The Wizards of High Sorcery were a secretive lot, but Arden and Lilia were old hands at gathering secret information. Rumors and stories collected at taverns, and the couple had more than a few out gathering information for them, making them even more well informed than one would suspect based on their appearance.

"We're off ta Palanthas," he declared one morning to his companions, "rumor is we'll find tha kinda mage we're lookin' fer there."

"Will she at least not be rude," Blossom asked as she idly sharpened an arrowhead.

"Well, they are a mage, Blossom. That may be askin' a bit much," Olund chuckled. "We'll just haffta see when we find 'em."

"You don't know who we're looking for," Kalisuel asked, a little surprised at how little of a plan Olund had. She had thought the dwarven leader of their trio would have a better idea than to go to a huge city and see what they could find.

"Ah, no. No I don't," he admitted as he rubbed his neck and grimaced, "but I do know that we'll be more likely ta find who we're lookin' fer there than 'ere. Palanthas is a big city with lots a places fer learnin'. We just need ta find a mage interested in tha kinds o' things we're gonna be lookin' at."

Olund looked at Blossom and Kalisuel with a beaming grin as he finished. Kalisuel had to admit that it sounded like it wouldn't be that hard, but then again, she'd never been to Palanthas, only heard about from people passing through or the ever-famous somebody who knew somebody who knew somebody that'd actually been. She thought about it as she looks at Blossom and found the elven woman grinning back at her.

"I once heard a man say that if you're gonna go fishing, do it where there's a lot of fish," Kalisuel said, feeling a smile widening on her face as she thought about the adventure to come. "Do you think I'll need a new journal for this adventure," she asked them, feeling excited to be seeing a new place.

===

The city of Solanthus was a wonder to behold for Kalisuel. Its shining walls towered over the farmland surrounding the capital of Solamnia. Inside were a thousand new stories to hear and she couldn't wait to listen to them. Her bardic talents had helped pay for their journey north and she was hoping that she could add some new tales and songs to her repertoire. First, however, she would have to wait with the others wanting to enter the city.

The line stretched for nearly a hundred feet, even in the early hours of the morning. One by one the wagons and travelers were waved through after paying the appropriate tolls. A few were thrown out of line or turned away for whatever reason, but many more crowded into the already crowded city. It was almost noon when Olund, Blossom, and Kalisuel were waved forward by a bored looking man.

"Name and business," he yawned as he put nib to parchment.

"Olund Cragdelver. These two, Widow's Blossom and Kalisuel, be with me," the dwarf answered, "Our business is ta find a place to sleep the night an' resupply fer the journey ahead."

The guard looked over the trio before demanding a few silver and waving them in. Olund grumbled as he paid, though not loudly enough for the guard to take offense. As they passed, Kalisuel couldn't help but notice the intense stare one of the guards was giving her. She felt a shiver down her spine, but couldn't say why. Shrugging it off as nerves, she followed the others into the city.

Any worries Kalisuel felt were soon swept away by the brightness of the colors and the liveliness of the people they found within the walls. She watched performers dancing and singing, saw farmers selling their crops and merchants hawking their wares. She wondered how many people lived here as she saw the towering buildings around her. Ten-thousand? Fifty-thousand? A hundred-thousand? They turned a corner and Kali gasped in awe as she saw hundreds of colorful banners high overhead, casting the market below them with dozens of colors.

"Ah, tha Rainbow Market! Always a sight worth be'oldin'. We'll meet up there," Olund said as he pointed out a fountain glittering in the largest patch of sunlight. "Ye two go 'ave some fun while I get us a place ta sleep."

Olund left Blossom and Kalisuel as he looked for an inn that wouldn't try to scalp him too badly for a one night's stay. Blossom, who didn't put much stock in possessions, still found the artistry on display fascinating and was more than happy to wander the market beside Kalisuel as they tried to take it all in.

"Excuse me," a creaky voice called out from one of the smaller stalls. An old man in a deep hooded cloak waved Kalisuel over as he added, "Would the young miss care for her fortune?"

Curious, Kalisuel moved closer, though she stayed in sight of Blossom as she looked over some jewelry made in what the craftswoman was claiming as a Kagonesti style. She glanced back at the elf, taking some comfort in knowing that she was close by.

"What kind of fortune," she asked as she turned her attention to the old man again.

"Why the truest of fortunes," the old man answered as he spread his hands wide, "I knew you would come to me today, entering the city with Olund Cragdelver. I could tell you much."

Kalisuel's eyes rounded in surprise. She stepped into the stall, wondering how this man knew.

"Are you really able to see my future," she asked, the questions as blunt as a hammer.

"Yes," the old man answered, his hands folding into his sleeves as the cloak draped around his shoulders. "I can. I know that you'll be dead soon."

The old man exploded into action, grabbing Kalisuel's wrist and pulling her off balance as his other hand drove a dagger deep between her ribs and into her lung. Her cry of pain came out as a weak, wheezy gasp as he twisted the knife while grinning wickedly in her face.

"House Kairn sends their regards, street rat," he whispered in her ear, his voice smooth and rich, like black velvet. Kalisuel tried to ask why, but then everything went black.

===

Kalisuel woke several days later in a dark, stone-ceilinged room light only by torches. Her side felt as if it were on fire, but more troubling to her was the concerned expressions on Olund and Blossom's faces.

"Are ye alright, lass," Olund asked her, his voice rough like a rusty hinge.

"M'side hurts," she mumbled in answer, her memories of how she got here missing. She couldn't remember what she'd done to hurt herself so badly. She frowned for a moment before laying back into the pillows she was propped up on. She had been in the Rainbow Market, then there was an old man. He was a fortune teller. Her eyes opened a bit more as she looked again at Olund and Blossom.

"S-someone tried to kill me," she said, her voice a little stronger as she remembered. "An old fortune teller stabbed me. Why?"

Olund shifted uncomfortably in the chair he was sitting in. Blossom looked at him for a moment before turning to Kalisuel, her eyes dark.

"He was an assassin paid by House Kairn as near as we can tell, unfortunately they are too important for the guards to do anything. They also seemed rather mad that I beat him nearly to death after I caught him sticking a knife in you, the damned idiots."

"Do ye remember tha night we met ye," Olund asked looking Kalisuel in the eyes.

"A little."

"Well, that's why. They're tryin' ta get to me, and they want me ta suffer, so they're goin' after ye and Blossom first. Don't think they was too bright hirin' that guy, but then again, I've never understood why 'uman's tolerate things like thieve's guilds and paid killers. Mehbe it's tha way things are supposed ta work here."

"Will they still be after us?"

"I don't know, lass, but I be thinkin' it's time ta be gettin' ye some armor once ye healed up. 'Ave a cousin who owes me a favor. 'E's agreed ta make ye somethin' special."

"Something special," Kalisuel asked. She could see the gleam in Olund's eyes as he mentioned it. She wondered what he meant by that. She'd never worn armor before. She hadn't needed to until now, she supposed, and with assassins after her, she would need it badly.

"Aye, lass. I think ye'll be likin' it. And, if we're gonna have ye with us, we gotta teach ye 'ow ta defend yerself an' fight. I know we said we'd keep ye safe, but ye seen how well that's workin' fer us with assassins after us."

He said it with all of the confidence that she would agree, and as she thought about it, she realized he was right. She needed to be able to defend herself. More than that, she wanted to be able to.

"I guess I better get better quick, then," she says, giving her two friends a small smile.

===

Kalisuel rolled her shoulder trying to ease the tightness from a bad bruise she'd gotten the night before. She'd been sparring with Blossom the night before and a particularly clever counter on Kali's part had surprised the Kagonesti elf. Before either had realized what had happened, Kali had a shiner from the elbow strike that had broken her attack and a bruise across half her back from the instinctual follow-up that slammed her into the ground. Thankfully, they hadn't been using live steel, but Kali was going to be a few days healing before she was up for sparring again.

"Still sore," Blossom asked, her tone apologetic.

"Yeah. I've had worse, though," Kalisuel replied as she finished stretching the tightness out. She still couldn't push herself much, but it was a little better than it had been that morning.

"It's good then! Means you're tough," Blossom declared with a broad smile.

"A little, maybe. I still haven't gotten used to the armor or using a sword or bow."

"It'll come. You are a fast learner, but strength can take time to build," Blossom stated sagely.

"Aye, lass. An' tha armor will feel like a second skin soon enough," Olund added from where he was leading the trio.

True enough, Kalisuel supposed, even the light chain she wore under her shirt was still noticeable, but she didn't notice as much as when she'd first worn. The breastplate that Olund's cousin had also made for her was still a little cumbersome for her, but even that she was getting used to. She was also getting better with the weapons they'd given her to defend herself with. Her hands and fingers still had blisters, but they were fast turning into calluses as she practiced.

"Speaking of soon, you said we'd be in Palanthus today, do we have an idea of where to go," Kali asked as they continued along the road.

"Aye, we will, an' we do. There's an inn that's said ta be frequented by tha likes we need ta find. Mages in need o' work or companions to aid 'em. Arden's pretty sure we'll 'ave some luck in the city, no matter what we find."

Morning turned to noon. Noon turned to afternoon, then to late evening before they arrived at the southern gates to the city. The guards, tired from a long day checking the farmers and travelers entering the city grew annoyed when they saw another group approach before their time watching the gates was through. The exchange was gruff, but not uncivil, Kalisuel noted, but she figured that was more because arguing with a dwarf was not something that helped one's health.

Night was falling before they arrived at the inn they'd been told about, and another hour passed before Kalisuel worked up the nerve to ask Olund the question that had been wandering around in her mind for a little while.

"Are we lost?"

Olund sighed and ran a hand down his face and beard.

"Mehbe a bit," he admitted meekly. He looked around, making sure they were alone before adding, "gettin' lost in a city ain't good. There's always 'umans wantin' ta take advantage of folks' misfortune. Bloody mess it be."

"What if we just find an inn on the main street, or ask a guard where the one we're looking for is," Kalisuel asked. She didn't want to ask a guard, her past experiences with them being less than cordial, but she would rather ask them than risk some of the lowlifes she knew lurked in the underbelly of a city.

"Guards don't want more trouble. They should help," Blossom agreed with a nod.

"Or you could ask me," a voice from the shadows said. The trio spun to face the speaker, a smallish man in a dark cloak who backed away with his hands up as he saw hands going for weapon hilts. "Whoa! Whoa, I'm not lookin' for trouble, yeah? Just wantin' to be a good neighbor here, friends. No need for things to get violent, yeah?"

"Funny. I'd think a thief skulkin' about would be lookin' ta cause nuthin' but trouble," Olund growled.

"Good thing I'm not a thief, yeah? I'm just lookin' out for some friends. A little I scratch your back, your scratch mine, yeah? Dwarves do that sorta thing, don't they," the man asked before looking at Blossom and Kalisuel, both of them ready to draw their blades. "I ain't gonna cause you trouble, my friends. I'd be a fool to try with three of you ready to tear me to shreds, yeah?"

"Good point. Maybe we hear him out," Blossom said as she glanced over at Olund.

"Fine, start with yer name an' why yer really here talkin' to us," Olund grumbled as he stepped back and eased his stance a bit.

"And then you and your lovely lady-friends tell me yours, yeah," the man asked, before noticing the hardening of Blossom and Olund's expressions. "Oh, that's a no, then, yeah? I understand where you stand. It's fair, yeah. I'm Rascon, and I want outta here."

Kalisuel looked to her two older and more experienced companions, wondering what they thought of the man's claim. They looked at each other then her before turning their attention back on Rascon. He seemed honest enough, if you discounted his sneaking up to them from a dark alley.

"Why," Blossom asked as her eyes narrowed in obvious mistrust.

"Not something that would be wise to talk about in the open like this, yeah. Better to do it where ears won't hear what they ought not," Rascon answered, surprisingly calm in the face of a quickly turning irritated Kagonesti elf. "I would not be fool enough to betray you when you are helpin' me."

"And whaddabout after? When we've helped ye," Olund asked, drawing Rascon's attention back to him.

"We go our own ways or I work for you. You and the charming elven woman seem less inclined towards the ways of a thief, yeah, and the sweet girl over there looks too innocent to be skilled in such arts, much less for the blade at her side. You are adventurers, yeah? I could help you. Having someone move quietly ahead to know the path would be a great boon, yeah?"

"Aye," Olund said, looking about for the eyes and ears he knew had to be there, even if he couldn't see them. "If ye get us ta tha 'Arrow Inn, I'll 'ear ye out. Just no funny business, yeah?" He leveled a glower at Rascon as he imitated the man's accent.

"Oh yes! Yes, nothin' funny here. I can get you to the Harrow Inn with no troubles, yeah. Just follow me," Rascon answered, a bit overeager, perhaps, but earnest.

True to his word, the rogue Rascon led them to the Harrow Inn without incurring any trouble. He pointed out which streets and districts they should avoid as they passed them. Kalisuel wasn't sure how she felt about him. On the one hand, he was being genuinely helpful, but on the other, she'd known of rogues who'd wanted out to avoid the consequences of their actions, and the price those that helped them paid was not a light one. The lucky ones only had some scars, but the unlucky ones were often crippled or tortured to death. She wondered why he wanted out so badly that he came to complete strangers and risked them just turning him over to his handlers.

The Harrow Inn, at least, was a haven in the darkness. The lively music and conversation coming through the door was welcome after the oppressive quiet that had pervaded as they moved through the streets. The warm light spilled out from the doors and windows, welcoming them in. Kalisuel felt the tension in her shoulders relax a little as she walked inside and drank in the atmosphere and remembered other taverns and inns where she'd performed and stayed at. In a way it was like coming home.

They found a table in the back corner to sit at Blossom and Olund flanked Rascon after he sat in the corner. The two of them looked at the rogue who seemed content to take his time, even ordering and paying for their meals and drinks. After the young boy who was taking orders delivered the food, Olund's patience ran out.

"Well, Rascon. What's it ye're runnin' from," he demanded over his ale.

Rascon sighed and gave another look around the room before answering. "There's a fight brewin' between the gangs in Palanthus," he told Olund, "they are trying to bolster their numbers, yeah? They're wantin' independents like me to choose. They want us to be killin' people. They ain't too choosy about who they put to the knife, yeah. I admit that my hands ain't clean, but I ain't killin' people that don't mean me harm. It ain't right, yeah?"

"What about those that mean ye 'arm for takin' what ain't yers?"

Rascon chuckled at that, Kalisuel noticed as she watched the man. "Ah, that is a quandry, yeah? I'd be a right bastard if I went about killin' those that I'd provoked, yeah," he laughed. Then his expression sobered a little. "No, I ain't a cutthroat. You're right in callin' me a thief, but I don't kill those that I steal from, nor do I steal from those that can't afford it or don't deserve it, yeah. It's part of why I want out. They will have me breakin' all of my rules."

"So, ye're an 'ethical' thief, then? Well, that's tha first I've 'eard o' that," Olund chuckled before taking a long pull of his drink. "So, answer me this. Why trust us? We could be just as bad as the ones ye be runnin' from."

"You could be," Rascon agreed, "but I doubt it. I saw you with the pretty girl there who's been mighty quiet," he nodded at Kalisuel, "and you both watch over her like hawks. She doesn't move like she's used to what she's carryin', yeah? I recognize dwarf-make when I see it. I also know when someone's got a soft spot for someone they're with. I figure folk like you are good-hearted if you're takin' a waif like her and teachin' her to defend herself, yeah?"

"You have keen eyes," Blossom observed as she sipped her drink.

"I try," Rascon replied with a winning smile.

"Alright, ye seem ta be honest enough fer us to give ye a chance. Think ye can help us find a mage that needs hirin'?"

"Oh, I think I can do that, yeah," Rascon drawled and grinned. Kalisuel couldn't help but notice a twinkle in his eyes as he steepled his fingers before him.

This was going to be interesting.

===

Rascon was as good as his word. In two days he'd helped narrow Olund's focus to just a few mages, all of them skilled and ones that would fit in with the eclectic group. The next day, he'd managed to get one of them interested.

"Dale of the Red," the mage introduced himself as he approached the table Olund and Rascon had set up. He was a human, and nearing his twilight years from the amount of grey and white in his hair and beard. Kalisuel watched as he sat down, and wondered how old he truly was or if magic could help keep someone from feeling the ravages of time, at least partially. He certainly didn't move like an old man.

"Olund Cragdelver of Throbardin," the dwarf replied, "I 'ear ye be lookin' fer some adventure to fill yer coffers."

"Oh, I guess the rumors have made it this far already," Dale laughed, his mirth adding a twinkle to his eye. Kalisuel found that she was liking him already. He seemed less intense than Elanthiel and the other mages she'd seen. He looked genuinely happy to be meeting someone from so far south.

"Eh, not quite. Gotta be good at gettin' the good stories if you wanna nab some talent before all the others start yammerin', yeah," Rascon put in, a lazy smile on his face as he lounged in his chair.

"Ah, but are you sure those stories are true," Dale asked as he leaned back in his own chair. "Many tales have been embellished or altered to fit with the crowd or with the teller's recollections I have found. It's quite fascinating."

"I figure they be true enough from the look o' ye," Olund replied. "Been a while since I've seen a 'uman greybeard move as well as ye."

"Ah, but perhaps I am not so old as I appear," Dale replied with a cryptic smile that fades as he notices Olund's lack of amusement. "Pardon, my sense of humor is a bit skewed. I find that keeping fit helps me avoid the pains my brothers and sisters endure. I am rather curious what a Thorbardinian dwarf is doing so far north."

"I be lookin' fer somethin' important to me clan," Olund said

Dale waited for a long moment, hoping for some elaboration before deciding that he had gotten all he was going to get. He twirled his finger in his beard and thought for a long moment before nodding and leaning onto the table.

"I am indeed looking for a party to join," he said, his tone lower and his cheerfulness flown. "I am studying ancient artefacts, and would dearly love to see some of the dwarven artefacts from before the Calamity.If you would let me study whatever it is you are after, I will gladly join you and your band. An equal share of whatever spoils we happen to gain and some privacy and understanding regarding matters of my order are all I ask. I think that a fair deal."

"So long as ye let us know when yer order's business is gonna be causin' us problems, we'll be fine," Olund agreed.

"Fair enough, Master Cragdelver," Dale nodded as he held out his hand to seal the deal.

===

Two years passed as Olund searched for Thordin's Hammer. As they traveled, Kalisuel was taught how to defend herself by Olund. Blossom taught her how to use a bow and track anything through the wilds. Rascon taught her to move like a shadow, silent and unseen. She learned the lessons well, becoming a valuable member of the party, but in some ways they still only saw the young woman in need of rescue from the hands of thugs and the blades of an assassin. Kalisuel accepted it as just how things would be. She was happy that she had found people she belonged with. Their visits to the Nightdancer's Cup, almost overrun by Lilia and Arden's growing family, were among her fondest memories as she told stories and spun yarns to entertain and delight the children. She had even taken up writing letters to them as a way to practice her penmanship after being taught to read and write by Dale.

Then came the night a goblin tribe surrounded their camp.

Kalisuel had been on watch and she woke the others as soon as she had noticed the scrawny and vile monsters approaching them. She slipped into the shadows, preparing to ambush the raiders, but she hadn't counted on the goblins having a shaman with them. The frail and wrinkled wretch cackled as his first spell bound Blossom tight to a tree. His next stole Dale's voice. Then he wreathed Rascon in flames of purple and blue, making him an easy target for the goblins. Olund snarled as he readied himself to die fighting, but the shaman held back the goblins with a raised hand.

"Dwarveses. So mighty. So proud. So stupid," it drawled as it gave Olund a yellow-toothed smile. "They thinksing of themselveses as better'n the goblinses! HA! Look and see the woeings I have wrung unto thee, Dwarvsie!"

Olund looked around and saw that Blossom bound tight to a tree with unpleasant looking vines that creaked as they squeezed harder and harder. She was trying hard to hide it, but Olund could see both the pain and fear in her eyes as they met his. He saw Dale ready his staff to bludgeon the goblins now that his spells were lost to him without a voice to utter the words of power. He could hear Rascon swearing as he looked around from behind the dwarf.

"They have us surrounded, yeah," the rogue said.

"Aye, looks that way," Olund agreed.

"Don't see our little lady about," Rascon added casually.

"We'll 'ave ta make our own luck, then."

"That we do, yeah. Hope she got away."

They dug in their heels, readying themselves for the final fight of their lives. The shaman cackled and raised his hand to order their deaths. The goblins around them hooted and chittered, sensing the coming kill. The air seemed to hum with the tension as it built to a crescendo that would erupt in violence.

There was a wet thok as the shaman drew in his breath to give the command. He gurgled around the black-fletched arrow in his throat. His eyes bulged as he looked up to see Kalisuel drawing her bow once more. Her face grim as she put an arrow right through his eye. Stunned, the goblins watched as the shaman fell.

Olund and his company were quick to take advantage, laying into the goblins with wild fury. Blossom broke free of the weakened restraints and lopped the heads of two goblins off before they could react. Olund and Rascon killed another three before they even noticed them moving while Dale's voice returned and he put a fireball right in the middle of the group surrounding the shaman. Kalisuel put another two down before the goblins, still massively outnumbering the companions, howled in rage and went after them. The wild, chaotic melee that followed was a blur of blood and violence as goblin after goblin met its gruesome end.

After the fighting ended with the goblins that remained running into the woods screaming in terror, Olund looked around to see Rascon limping over to where Dale had collapsed after the goblins took flight. Blossom was a little better off, she was bruised and bore a few scratches and gashes from the goblins that had attacked her. She jogged over to where Olund stood, stunned and hardly believing they were alive.

"Where is Kali," the elf asked, a note of worry in her voice as she drew near.

The dwarf swallowed a curse and started to look by tracing the line the arrows that had killed the goblin shaman had taken. His steps were quick. His hands twitched with a nervous energy as he saw the line of dead goblins leading to where Kalisuel had been standing. The trail continued on behind a copse of trees. His heart nearly stopped when he saw the broken bow. Still there were more goblins, now dead from slit throats.

He followed the trail, wondering where Kalisuel was. More goblins with spilled guts and slashed throats laid on the ground, dead and dying. Olund felt a twinge of pride at that. She'd done well, but he couldn't stop worrying and fearing the worst. He passed over twenty goblin corpses before he found Kali against a tree, a ring of dead goblins around her. She was covered in blood from head to toe. Her clothing was in shambles, cut and torn in a dozen places. None of that mattered to Olund. He had seen what he had dared not hope to see. Kalisuel was breathing.

===

It was some time later when Kalisuel awoke. She groaned in pain from the now dressed wounds as she came to, a protest at having her pain wake her, or being in pain if she was dead. That was also unfair. A familiar voice pulled her further into the waking world, as much as she wished to go back to sleep.

"Afternoon Lass," Olund greeted her, not able to keep the note of relief from his voice. "I was wonderin' when ye'd be up. Not e'eryday ye slay almost thirty o' 'em green-skinned bastards in one go."

Kali looked at Olund from where she lay as if the dwarf had just declared his abstinence from all alcohol as her mind slowly worked through what he was saying. It took her a moment. Her eyes opened wide as she remembered the fight and began to look around.

"Where," she began to ask, but Olund put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down.

"Easy, Lass. Easy! They're alright. All thanks ta ye," he assured her. "'Ell o' a fight ye put up after ye put one in tha shaman's eye."

Relaxing, Kalisuel took in her surroundings for the first time, surprised to find herself in a room instead of the woods. She settles back onto the pillows as Olund brushes her hair behind her knotched ear. She freezes. Only her eyes move to look into Olund's.

"We know, Kali," he tells her in a soft, comforting voice. "I can see why ye 'ide 'em. Easier if ye pass fer 'uman. Know this, me girl. Ye've earned our trust, and ain't a one o' us gives a damn 'bout yer ears, other than they keep 'earin' as well as they do."

Kali laid herself back down and felt her eyelids beginning to droop. She wanted to tell Olund so many things, to tell him about her first, terrifying days alone and how her mother had abandoned her. She wanted to thank him, to weep, to laugh, but her body was too sore and tired. It demanded sleep, so all she could muster was a quiet thank you before she fell into a deep slumber once again.

===

Blossom gave Kali an insufferable smile as they made their way through the woods just outside of town. Most of her wounds had healed well enough, but a few lingering gashes that had come close to vitals still plagued her with occasional pains. It wasn't that Kali didn't like Blossom. Most of the time the two of them got along fairly well. It was just that Kali didn't know if the elf's amusement was about the surprise she had planned or that Kali was struggling to keep up after having gotten almost as good at traversing the wilds as she.

"Too much bed rest is bad! See how much huffing and puffing you are doing after only a week," Blossom had observed when Kali had to stop. There had been a few more since then on the hour long trip, and Kali was certain that she could have made it in half the time if she wasn't still nursing her injuries. She couldn't be too annoyed with Blossom, though. The fresh air and the chance to get out of the room she'd been in for several days was worth what little pain and teasing from Blossom she had endured, and she was already feeling more like her usual self.

They came on a clearing where a camp had been set. Game and wild vegetables stewed in a large clay crock. Several staves hung from an overhanging branch to dry in the hot air rising from the fire. A dark skinned elf sat in front of the tent as he worked on a carving in the stave. He looked up and smiled as he saw Blossom and Kali approach. It was a warm smile, like that of family, Kali noted.

"Welcome! Welcome to my humble camp. My fire is yours for but a tale," he said as he stood and gave a grandiose bow. "I see I have quite the heroine gracing me with her presence. I heard you slew over a score of goblins. Most impressive, young one."

Kali blushed at that. She had only been trying to save her friends. She wasn't all that brave, and she felt embarrassed by the praise.

"I did, but they still hurt me pretty good before they ran off," Kali replied.

"Even so, it is quite the feat! I heard from a flower that you also lost your bow," the elf said as he stroked his chin. His face bore the same smile that Blossom was wearing, and Kali knew that something was up.

"And snapped a sword,"[b] she added, remembering the moment of panic all too vividly.

[b]"I see. I see. I may have something for you to use," he said, nodding sagely before rummaging behind him. He pulls up a bow and quiver of arrows on a belt, his smile all the wider. "Ah! I think this will do!"

He holds out the finely crafted bow for Kali to take. She steps forward, her hands trembling a little as she sees just how finely made it is. It was a work of art from string to grip. There was a warmth to it, she noticed as she took it. The bow felt right in her hands and the draw was perfectly weighted to her strength. She looked at it with awe as she held it for a moment before she realized that this had been made for her.

"I-I can't accept–" she tried to protest only for Blossom to cut her off.

"It is a gift, Kalisuel. You saved our lives that night, and have proven you are equal to any of us. You have more than earned this," Blossom told her in a voice that made it clear her mind was made up. Kali felt tears welling up in her eyes before she threw her arms around Blossom and thanked her for the gift.

Olund also had a surprise for her when she returned that evening with Blossom. Two new swords, both long blades, to replace the sword she had broken in the fight with the goblins. These blades were also finely crafted and once again Kali was overwhelmed by the gratitude that the others were showing her.

"Now, lass," Olund teased, "ye can't be cryin' every time we give ya somethin'. Poor Dale will be in tears fer years ta come at this rate!"

===

The next couple of years saw Kali's growth as a fighter and scout continue under Blossom's tuteluge. She continued to dance and sing to help pay for their rooms and board as the band traveled and searched for Thoradin's Hammer. Sadly, most of Olund's leads turned out to be deadends, and more than once they had to start over from scratch. Kali didn't mind. She enjoyed the visits to the Nightdancer's Cup and seeing Arden and Lilia's growing family. She often wrote to them, telling them of her adventures with Olund's company.

The winter came early. A cold wind bit and groaned as it blew up from the south. Frost had already coated the ground for a week, a herald of the snows to come. Olund built a fire between the tents that the others were setting up, his shoulders hunched and tense.

"You fear the snow, yeah? You huddle over the fire like it's gonna go out if you don't baby it," Rascon joked as he finished helping Dale set up their tent. Kali had grown to like the scoundrel, though she didn't appreciate his attempts at seducing her. She and Blossom chuckled at that as they finished with their tent.

"Somethin's not right," Olund replied, his eyes on the deepening dark around them. "Somthin' foul's on the air. Can't tell what, but I know it's there."

The concern they heard in the dwarf's voice was sobering. Olund had never been one to worry needlessly, and his tension was all too real. They finished setting up the camp and ate a light supper, none of them being particularly hungry with their bellies twisting into knots. Sleep proved elusive, perhaps thankfully so. A dozen goblins charged from the dark, shrieking and howling as the snow began to fall. Blossom took two of them down before they could close while Dale killed another three. Rascon, Olund, and Kali cut down the rest with brutal efficiency.

That was not the end, however. Dozens of yellow and red eyes shone in the darkness on the fringes of the firelight. Each pair belonged to a goblin, and there were dozens of the green wretches. Olund's unease was well founded, they saw, and rather than stay and be overwhelmed the band ran for Solace, the nearest town, in the hopes that the guard could be mustered in time to help.

Kali and Blossom sent arrow after arrow streaking through the dark. Rascon and Olund slew those that got too close while Dale loosed his arcane spells on the creatures when they gathered too thickly for them to slay with bow and steel alone. They turned and twisted their course to avoid knots of enemies blocking their path, but it soon became apparent that they were being herded. They had no choice but to run. Too many goblins closed in from the sides and their backs. Still, there was hope that they could slip the noose and escape.

Hope ran out when three brutish ogres appeared ahead of them. The goblins surrounded the band, chittering, hooting, and screeching in anticipation of the kill to come. The ogres laughed cruelly as they saw their prey more clearly.

"What have we here," the largest of them chuckled. It was an evil sound, full of malice and contempt.

"A few lost lambs for the slaughter."

"Now, now, we should have a little fun first."

"Yes, we should," the first one agreed before turning to look at the goblins surrounding the band. "Capture the elf and the little one. Kill the others."

The goblins came in eagerly only for Dale to unleash his magic. Illusions fooled some while others burned like kindling for a fire. Blossom and Kali sent arrow after arrow into the hoard while Rascon and Olund cut down those that made it through. A massive fireball broke the charge as dozens of goblins died screaming.

"There's too many. We need to escape," Dale growled.

"Tha ogres. We kill 'em, we have a way out," Olund reasoned. It was a frail hope. The five of them against three ogres might be a sure thing normally, but they had been exhausted by running and skirmishing with the goblins all night. They tilted the balance in the ogre's favor. Kali could see, though, that this was their only chance. The line was thinnest where they were, and if they killed them, or even just one of them. Perhaps that would spook the goblins enough.

"Then we die fighting evil monsters. Not a bad death," Blossom laughed.

The goblins were regrouping, no longer laughing and sneering, but growling and snarling in rage. If they were to try, they had to try now. Blossom and Kali lead with arrows, the elf's taking the biggest of them in the eye while Kali's sunk deep into the neck of one of the ones flanking him. Rascon and Olund charged while bolts of arcane power flew from Dale's hands and slammed into the third ogre. Olund and Rascon hacked and parried as they danced around the ogres while Blossom sent arrow after arrow into the goblins starting to come at their backs. Dale flung his swiftly dwindling reserves of spells at the goblins, hoping to either break their will or keep them at bay long enough for the dwarf and the rogue to kill one of the brutes.

Kali looked from the goblins to the ogres. She had to help, but who needed her more. Rascon and lund grunted as blows rained down on them in the ogres' angered frenzy. Seeing them starting to be overwhelmed, she charged in, afraid, but no less brave for it. She gashed one in the belly before having to dive aside while another howled as Olund's cruel axe freed a hand from one of their overly large arms. Rascon stabbed hard with his sword, seeking to end the beast, and he gravely wounded his foe. The wound was not mortal, however. The ogre's remaining hand grabbed the rogue's arm and broke it, but that was not his aim. Kali saw it all too clearly in that moment. Rascon's eyes widened as he realized his folly and saw the crude sword of the ogre swinging for him. Kali could only look on in horror as she watched the largest of the ogres smash the life from her friend.

She had no time to mourn. The blows came more furiously then as the ogres concentrated on Olund and herself. The dwarf fought like a demon. His axe bit and drank deep of the wounded ogre's blood as he hamstrung the howling monster and put him out of the fight. Even with Rascon's death, they might be able to win, to escape. They just needed to defeat the two ogres.

Time was not something the band had. Dale cursed as he loosed the last of his spells, and even with the quiver of arrows Kali had handed to her, Blossom was fast running out. The goblins closed in as they retreated, seeing no option but to try helping Olund and Kali kill the ogres. Dale, though he was hardened from years on the road rather than in a tower filled with tomes, was no warrior, and the ogres sensed his disadvantage. They pushed Kali and Olund back with a furious assault before turning to the wizard and battering him to the ground. Dale fell dead, his head split open like a ripe melon.

Blossom joined the fray, a blur of steel as she fought off goblin and ogre. Kali focussed on the goblins, hacking them apart with a cold fury she hadn't known she possessed. Olund faced the ogres. They were brilliant, slaying their enemies with abandon, but raw fury is no shield. No one is immortal.

Blossom gasped as three of the greenskins got lucky and pierced her with spears. They all died for their success, but the elf could not fight any longer. Indeed, she could never have survived such wicked wounds. Kali watched with tears in her eyes as the Kagonesti elf looked up at her and mouthed one last word.

Live.

Olund glanced back for only a heartbeat to see the situation was almost hopeless. Kali was fast and clever. She was agile and tough. She could make it, but only if he held the ogres and the goblins.

"RUN GIRL!" His roar snapped Kali from her reverie and she watched as Olund charged with reckless abandon at the ogres. "RUN!" He bellowed, the word becoming his battle cry as the ogres howled in pain and the goblins beside them screamed in death.

Kali wept as she sang the notes she'd learned on the streets of Haven while running from the guards. She vanished from sight and bolted between two of the goblins. By the time they realized what was going on, she was past them and around a copse of trees. She ran. She heard the goblins scream in protest and the ogres roar in anger, and she ran. She heard the death cries of goblins and the pained howls of ogres, and she ran. She heard Olund bellow defiance before his voice was forever silenced, and she ran.

She didn't know how long she ran for. Minutes? Hours? It hardly mattered. The goblins and ogres could not be far behind. A root, hidden by the snow, tripped her, and she tumbled through the snow. She staggered to her feet and tried to run, but only fell again as her knees buckled. She picked herself up, again. Slowly, she stumbled on, walking because she could no longer run. The forest was silent. Her tears ran hot down her face as her teeth chattered. The air was growing colder, and she could feel her toes and fingers growing numb. Hours passed as she walked through the piling snow. Each step grew harder and harder as she felt fatigue and the weight of the snow drag on her feet. Despair pulled on her, urging her to just stop struggling and lie down on the ground. Sleep would find her, and she would never wake to pain again.

It was hard to ignore that voice. Kali almost gave in to it. To never feel pain again sounded nice, even if it only meant she had died. She fought the desire, no, the temptation to give in. She couldn't ignore the last two things her mentors had told her. Run. Live.

Her resolve could only last so long against the cold and the grief, however. She leaned against one of the massive trees that filled the forest and felt herself longing to fall asleep. She hardly cared if she would wake again. She would have, but for the peculiar thing she saw at the base of the tree, a step. Her eyes followed the steps up the trunk of the tree and gasped as she saw the soft, warm glow of fires from shuttered windows overhead.

Each step was a struggle, a fight to keep moving and standing with her numb limbs. She didn't even shiver now. She was too cold, too tired. After an eternity she came to the heavy wooden door of the building built in the trees. She raised her fist and knocked as hard as she could, once, then again, before her knees buckled and she fell to the threshold of the Inn of the Last Home. She lay there, thinking that this was the end.

The door opened and Kali looked up at the concerned old man looking around to see who could be knocking on his door at this hour. She tried to stand, but there was no strength left in her arms or legs.

"P-please," she begged him, "help!"

"O-of course," the man stammered as he crouched down to pick her up. She helped as best she could, but she was too weak, too cold. He carried her to one of the chairs by the fire and settled her into it before calling for Tika to bring some blankets. While the young serving girl did so, he fixed a bowl of simmering broth for Kali to drink to warm herself up. He had to hold it as her limbs came back to painful life and she began to shiver violently.

"Now, what happened? Why were you at my door," he asked as he saw her beginning to recover a little.

"W-w-we w-w-w-were ch-chased. G-g-g-goblins, ss-s-ss-scores of-f-f th-them," she said, fighting to hold back tears and get the words out. "A-a-ambush. Og-g-gres. 'M th-th-the only one l-left-t-t."

The man frowned. Ogres and goblins could pose a real threat to anyone traveling in the area, even to Solace itself if there were enough of them. He turned to Tika and told her to keep an eye on Kali before heading to his room upstairs to dress for the cold. He left a short while later to talk to the guards on duty.

Tika tried to comfort Kali, but the young half-elf felt her grief too keenly now. She was safe, and the tears she had been denying came with a vengeance as she wailed and mourned the loss of her friends, of her family.

===

Kali sat on the bed in the borrowed nightgown she had slept in. It had been four days since she had arrived in Solace with many rumors surrounding her sudden appearance flying through the inn. Otik, the innkeeper and the man that had saved her from the cold that night, sat beside her with one arm wrapped around her slight shoulders to comfort her.

The searching guards and militia had found some things. The news of the ransacked camp they had fled from, with shredded tents and nothing left of value, came as no real surprise, but the news of the mutilated bodies of her companions had hit her hard. How was she going to tell Arden and Lilia? How could she put that into a letter?

Worse, or perhaps luckily, there were no signs of the ogres, and the only signs of the goblins were the confused and muddle tracks around the camp and the sight of the band's last stand. After finding nothing else, the search had been called off.

She wept again, burying her head into Otik's shoulder as the tears kept coming. His shoulder was soaked by the time she had cried herself out and she only sat there in dazed, drained silence.

"Otik," she began in a soft shaky voice, "I… I have nowhere else to go. I-I can help serve people, or sing and dance, or cook, or just clean. Please, I just… I need a place to stay."

"Of course, Kalisuel," he agreed. "Rest up today and tomorrow. I'll make sure you have a place here as long as you need it."

"Thank you, Otik," Kali sobbed as she felt some of the tension vanish. Her tears were not just of relief, though. She also felt a deep keen sorrow in her heart.

She had found a safe haven, but not a home. She never would find a home, she realised. She didn't know if she could take the heartache of losing friends and family again.

===

The next several months were difficult for Kalisuel. Nightmares plagued her dreams and at times she would cower in a corner sobbing for seemingly no reason at all. Slowly, though, she began to cope and move on. Drawing and music helped her, and Otik made sure she had time to draw and opportunities to sing. It didn't hurt that the lively songstress could draw quite the crowd.

However, as time wore on, Kali kept feeling the pull of the road, the siren song of adventure. It was not discontentment or unhappiness, but something she had never fully understood. Maybe it was her willingness to go haring off down wild and strange paths that was making her antsy? She could not say. All she knew was that someday soon, her time at the Inn of the Last Home and in Solace was beginning to come to an end.