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The paladin gives Emma and Hannibal enough space so that they can talk in private. He purposely puts himself out of ear-shot, as he has no desire to over-hear any part of their conversation. What is said between them was meant to be private, he could tell.

But as the conversation goes on for some time, Skandor finds himself fidgeting. He furrows his brow, and suddenly has the feeling of...what...being left out? He scolds himself for thinking such things, and remembers that Emma and Hannibal have been friends for quite some time now, and that it was none of his business what they discussed.

He tries to focus his attention on other things in the small town of Halen. Other people walking by, children playing in the street, but he continues to glance often towards the couple as they talked.

"Hello to you, Priestess, I hope you are feeling well this day," Hannibal begins, trying to be as pleasant as possible and not too quickly reveal his feelings. "I, uh, wanted to ask a question of you...only if you have a willing ear of course." Hannibal trails off for a moment, embarrassed with his sudden inability to express himself. Quietly he awaits her reply before continuing.

Emma's thoughts had continued to be about Crayne and the road ahead, but when Hannibal speaks his mind, she nearly flinches. 'Why's he bringing up this topic now?' she asks herself, partly annoyed with the thief for interrupting her, and partly annoyed with herself for the small amount of guilt she feels for doubting Crayne and neglecting her role as a spiritual guide.

"I was just wondering if you would tell me of this god of yours," Hannibal replies. "Where does he put his fallen followers? What of those who do not follow him, what happens to them? If someone had committed an act, or maybe acts, of chaos but then tried to make things right...what would he do with them? What if they died before able to fulfill their goal?" Hannibal is very uncomfortable with these questions but it is obvious that the answers are important to him as he hangs on every word Emma speaks.

"Anhur's Fallen don't truly die, Hannibal," the priestess explains, "They continue to serve him faithfully in the afterlife, joining his legions arrayed against the supernatural forces of evil in the Nether Realms.

"As for those that do not follow him," she continues, "It depends. Every good and just person doesn't follow Anhur. He is but one of many goodly gods in the pantheon of Rinder. Anhur is simply the judge of all men's souls. He weighs their deeds upon the Scales of Justice and those that led a good life on this plane are rewarded accordingly. If they were worshippers of Hathe, Thoth, Geb, or Nire, then each of those gods will bring them into their kingdoms. If they were followers of Anhur, they will join his legions. And those that still have a goodly heart but followed no particular deity will be given the choice to serve one or the other.

"But make no doubt, Hannibal," she tells the thief, "Those that are measured upon the Scales of Justice and whose lives are found to be more evil than good will be punished according to their deeds...cast out and banished to the Nether Realms. I know Crayne doesn't like to hear that. He and I had a similar conversation long ago about this when I first joined Rinder's Six. But his feelings, and indeed anyone's feelings on the matter, make it no less true."

Hannibal keeps an empty expression on his face, his eyes grow distant and sad for a moment. Considering Emma's question he doesn't immediately answer and Emma soon continues.

Emma looks down at her feet and dodges an icy mud-puddle, then looks out across the marketplace stalls for a moment. "'...And in that place there will be darkness and flames, terror and pain....'" she quietly quotes.

"Certain parts of the Scrolls of Anhur describe the demons and devils that hungrily await such tainted souls in the Nether Realm. They are to be feared...not just in the afterlife, but in this one as well. For they all seek to escape and wreak havoc upon our plane, always hungry to devour the innocents whose lives still hang in the balance. It is one of the charges of Anhur to his priesthood that we be vigilant in guarding against such atrocities."

Emma regards Hannibal for a moment and then plainly asks him, "Why do you wish to know these things?

"I think I already know," she tells him, "Undoubtedly there are deeds in your life that you regret doing. Some of them may even predate Melinda, Singe, and Bernigan. We all have such failings in our lives. And there's certainly time to undo some of those things...but it won't happen simply because you promise to stop doing them from now on. You can't remove something from the Scales of Justice. You can only add to them, because life never reverses itself. Instead, you must perform a good deed for every bad one. Only then can the scales be tipped in your favor. And I won't lie to you, Hannibal. If you should perish before you can move those scales, then Anhur's judgement will come swiftly upon you...and your punishment will be dealt in full. Anything less would be unfair to those that were so judged in the beginning.

"Does that frighten you?" she asks softly, "Perhaps so...perhaps not. You might not feel that way now, because you assume you have lots of time. But when the moment of death comes upon you, you'll know if you're ready. And if you're not, the fear will be terrible, swift, and haunting. It's best to do what you can to avoid that. I would advise you to develop a sense of urgency inside. You may not live to see tomorrow. The same is true for all of us. So act now if you want to change things, Hannibal. I can offer you no better advice for your life. Nor any other man, woman, or child."

Hannibal reflects on Emma's words for a moment, a look of uneasiness on his face. For a moment it looked like he would not answer at all, seemingly hung up on wherever his thoughts had taken them, and then his face grows neutral again. "I am not concerned for my well being Priestess, nor do I fear your God or his so called judgement."

Emma's jaw clenches tightly for a second at Hannibal's announcement. Another rejection. Inwardly, she feels angry and wants to strike something...an unusual reaction for her and something that scares her when she realizes it's probably an extension of the turmoil she's felt in her own heart for the past few days.

First, there was Crayne's ultimatum delivered on the road to Nickton. Then, during the attack on the adamantine caravan, Elloharin had slain the defenseless men held by her own spell. Hannibal, of course, had finally exacted his revenge upon Bernigan...and Storm, too, had seemed more than eager to outright slay one of the Clansmen that night. Finally, she was beginning to have her own doubts regarding Crayne's motivations. She had always assumed the mage had the best interests of Rinder at heart, but sometimes his words and actions seemed so contradictory.

Above that, the priesthood always advised patience when preaching Anhur's doctrine. But Emma feels herself growing tired of waiting for anyone to change their heart among Rinder's Six. 'It never does any good anyway,' she tells herself, 'They see no correlation between their actions and their words. In their own eyes, they're perfect. For me to point out otherwise simply undermines any respect they might have for me or my religion. So why bother? Why care anymore?'

For a moment it appears Hannibal will become angry, but pausing a moment helps his nerves and he continues again. "I only ask for the benefit of Melinda, as I don't know how she felt of such things. If you have it in your heart Priestess, and I believe you do, could you offer a prayer for her safety and forgiveness?"

Emma looks stunned by Hannibal's request. 'So that's what this is about,' she tells herself, 'It's not guilt for himself. It's fear for Melinda, his beloved...and maybe guilt for having gotten her involved in something bad that eventually led to her death.'

The priestess feels her anger quickly boiling up again as she considers the thief's words, threatening to overwhelm all sense of reason. 'Why in the Nine Hells is he willing to acknowledge it's possible that Melinda suffers in the afterlife for the crimes she may have committed on this plane of existence, but he can't see the same situation applies to himself? Is he that suicidal? Does he really believe there's no more hope for him? Melinda has passed beyond. Hannibal is the one that still has the opportunity to change his life. There's nothing we can do for her...'

Emma's hands tighten into fists as she feels the urge to strike Hannibal in order to wake him up...to shake him out of the self-pity that rules his life and keeps him focused on Melinda instead of himself. 'She's dead, you idiot!' she wants to scream at him, 'Now wake up and start living your life. That's the one you need to be concerned about!'

Hannibal lingers on this last question, wondering whether he had asked to much. Deciding that this was something he had to do, however, he continues. Reaching into the inner fold of his cloak, he retrieves a beautiful silver necklace with a small sapphire pendant. Handing the necklace to Emma he offers a weak smile as he reflects on the item.

The Sword Bearer's eyes narrow. So Hannibal was trying to win her over with trinkets? There was no mention of such a necklace found in the loot amongst the caravan, or anywhere else that he remembers. So it must have been given from Hannibal's "private stock". Surely Emma, wise and intelligent, would see the 'gift' for what it was? Or would she?

Wait a minute...what in the nine hells did it matter? What was this emotion, one that the paladin had never felt before...jealousy? Skandor's jaw drops, stunned, and he did not catch himself blinking until he felt his face fill with the heat of a deep blush. His mind raced, almost as quickly as his heart. Could he admit that he felt something more than comraderie for the Shield Maiden? How? Why?

No...it had to have been the Lake. Like the scales of justice, his emotional balance had to have been tipped when he flashed back to his family. This surge of emotion was now making him feel...strange. He chides himself and thanked Anhur that no one had seen him as he looks back towards the couple as they continue to speak. But his mind could not stop thinking...could he ever be as skilled a warrior as Hannibal? Is that what she saw in him? He was not even a man of faith... Bah, he should be happy for them... He should be, but for some reason, he grinds his teeth together, and composes himself as he assumes his position behind Emma when she is done speaking to the rogue.

"In all the years," Hannibal tells Emman, "from her death to meeting Rinder's Six, I carried this necklace of hers on me in her memory. Even as I was starving, freezing, and drunk I never once thought to trade it for life. I'm sure on the market it might fetch a handsome price, and now I want you to wear it. Not as payment for your prayer as I know you would not approve. Not as homage to the church for the forgiveness of a thief as that would never happen. Rather as a symbol of my vassalage to you. Talk with your superiors if possible, ask of them this one favor, forgive Melinda so that I may go on living. If you do this for me I will give to you my very life in return." Hannibal grows quiet for a moment, gazing up into the sky above with a slight smile on his face. "Think about it, do not answer now, just think about it."

Once more stunned by Hannibal's request, Emma feels the wind taken out of her sails. She barely looks at the necklace he presses into her hand. Her mind races on what to do. Should she be truthful and tell him that there's little she or the high priests of Anhur could ever do for Melinda? If the girl had already been judged and sent into the Nether Realms, it would be nearly impossible to bring her back. Or should she take the necklace and give Hannibal at least the illusion that something would be done? That way, he might finally stop obsessing about her. He could finally focus on his life and the road ahead.

"Love is an incredible bond, Hannibal," Emma finally concedes, the fire and anger leaving her as she tries very hard to simply be his friend, "I'll hold your keepsake for now...and...do what I can for Melinda. Just think about this: If I were your love and passed away into judgement and was sent to the Nether Realms, I wouldn't want you to worry about me...and seek to have others pray for my soul. I would be more concerned about you. It would be your soul that still hung in the balance...not mine. And having passed beyond, I would know what awaited you if you didn't change yourself...and as long as my love endured, my prayers would go to you."

The priestess wraps the charm-necklace around her guantleted wrist, unwilling to place it around her neck where her holy symbol is already displayed, and turning it into a bracelet instead. She keeps pace with Hannibal as she does so, her eyes on the icy ground of the marketplace. The sapphire pendant feels odd dangling against her hand as she walks.

"You know, there's an ancient parable from the Scrolls of Anhur," she continues, "In which a man and a woman, very much in love with one another become separated. The man had led a violent life, quite often in opposition to the laws of the land. As a result, when he finally died by the sword, he came to be judged by Anhur and was justifiably sent to the Nether Realms. His beloved, an innocent young woman, wept every day for the rest of her life...putting all of her energy into grieving for him and his lost soul. She was an early Shield Maiden of Anhur, Hannibal...and it had been her folly to fall in love with a man whose heart would never change. In the end, she left no room in her life for anyone or anything else. And people suffered because her attention and energy was wasted upon the dead. Her grief just took away any chance she had for living a normal life. But it wasn't just grief because her beloved had died...it was guilt for knowing she had the chance to save him, but lost it. But she suffered a greater loss than that, Hannibal. She wasted the entire rest of her life in addition to that chance to save him. She never came to grips with what happened. And she never moved on..."

Emma holds up her hand and shakes the sapphire pendant for emphasis. "It is my hope that by giving this over to me, you will let go of your beloved, Hannibal," Emma tells him, "Don't forget her. I'm not asking that. Your love for her does mean something. I would never say otherwise. But, her memory can inspire you to do great things in this life. In time, it will help to swing the balance of your soul upon the Scales of Justice. But only if you don't let this memory eat you alive for the rest of your life. It's already plagued you for the past several years. Do you want to throw away the next few still wrapped up in a blanket of grief? Doing so won't help anyone...least of all yourself. You need to use it as a catalyst for change.

"Look," the priestess states plainly, "I'm not asking you to believe in Anhur...or any other god of the Rinder pantheon. What I am asking you to do is change your life for the better. You know the difference between a good deed and an evil one. If you want to proclaim your vassalage to me in exchange for praying on Melinda's behalf, do so because you want to make the lives of others on this plane better. Just being a member of Rinder's Six and partaking in these missions will help to accomplish that, but make sure you're doing it for the right reasons. Balance your life with a series of intentional good deeds for awhile. You have enough evil ones that keep trying to drag you back into the past, but you need to cut yourself free from that.

"Look ahead to the future...," Emma says, stretching her hand toward the sky and causing the sapphire to gleam brightly in the sun, "Nire has a much brighter day in store for you. And you, me, and everyone you come in contact with will be happier if you take that road. I will pray that you find it...as I pray for Melinda, too."

Hannibal nods, acting as if he had taken little of her comments in although she knew he had. "I will do as you say," he says, adjusting his pack slightly for comfort. "Know this, however. I do not do this for your god, nor for my own salvation, I do this for her. A long time ago I could have been much like Canter over there...but Orcs made sure that would not be. When fate brought me Melinda, I vowed to change my life for the better, but fate took her from me as quickly as she had come. If this is how your god works then I do not see the justice in his ways. The scales have been tipped so badly against me in life that it is any wonder I still seek to make the world a better place...and there were times I thought of acting against it!"

Hannibal reflects for a moment on that last sentence, staring at his feet as they walk through the streets. "When my time comes for judgement I will ask your god for the one thing I believe he owes me, his favour. I have lost my parents to plague, lost my Lord and mentor to Orcs, lost my lady to the ravages of evil itself and still I walk with you this day in pursuit of justice and peace in the realm. You say I am bitter and vengeful and you are right, I am every bit what you say and more. I have one gift that many lack though...a strong will. I have never been, am not now, and will never become a pawn of evil! Lady Emma, I think you judge me wrongly this day much as you did back at the Clan camp. I do things solely because I know things you do not. I have seen many of the evils of this world first hand, evils you have only heard of in rumor. I think you have issues lately that you believe others have not noticed...but I have. You walk now with a man that lived before only because he knew how to smell fear, inflict pain, and show anger all without saying or doing a thing."

Hannibal stops here, realizing they were getting close to their destination. "Forgive me for being long winded, I guess this is as much a healing process for me than any spell you have ever cast. Together Lady Emma, I believe we both can do some healing." With that Hannibal takes Emma's hand in his own and touches the bracelet for a moment, a distant look crossing his face. "Thank you." Giving Emma a chance to respond if she likes, Hannibal takes a few steps away.

The priestess nods, her lips tightening into an accepting line of determination. "You're welcome, Hannibal. And you do have a strong will," she agrees, as if to suggest that she does as well, and will use it to keep her pledge to pray for his beloved, "I've always known that about you. In fact, I cherish your fiery spirit and determination. It serves you well. And to me, that's what indicates things can be different for you. You've had the will to make your way in this life...to endure the hardships that have been presented to you...and you also have the will to be much more than that which you are today. A spiritual healing is definitely in order for that to happen...

"You must understand, though," she continues, "The things which have happened to you so far haven't come because my god failed you. He has never known you because your heart has never been given over to him. Instead, the forces that have come against you, and taken so many wonderful things from you, stem directly from the evil that already exists in this world. It wasn't by Anhur's hand, so don't hold him responsible. Your hatred should be directed at the source of your problems, not at those that would lend you strength to deal with them. For some reason, evil just seems more attracted to you than most people. But I suspect most people don't purposefully lead the life you have for so many years either.

"It's an interesting challenge that faces you, I think. And as an old Anhurian proverb states: 'It's the flame that strengthens the blade.' So, don't be jaded about your past, Hannibal. Use it instead to strengthen yourself. You've finally experienced the fire and it's your superior will that brought you through. So what now? I told you at the caravan-site, you're faced with a whole new set of choices. I just wanted you to hear my voice one last time...before you took another walk down the darker path. That's all. I just want you to be happier. I want you to have a better life. I'm not trying to convert you. At best, I'm just trying to mother you a little bit."

Emma smiles and holds out one hand as if to show she has no weapon, and means him no harm by that sentiment. "Thanks for listening," she smiles, "I'm always here..."

Feeling that he had shown far too much of his soul in the last few moments, Hannibal decides a moment of testosterone is in order. Waiting for a passing cart to come by, he gives Storm a firm but guiding push into the cart, making sure the shove doesn't direct the stout under a wheel and that he only bounces off harmlessly. Grinning at his dwarven friend, Hannibal begins to run in anticipation of the beating he is about to get! "Come get me mighty Storm!" he calls over his shoulder as he darts through the crowded city streets.

Emma watches him go. Sadness creeps over her as she compares his situation to hers. 'We all have our problems,' she thinks.

Meanwhile, back at Old Halbredan's place, the old wizard, his former student Crayne, and the elf Elloharin enter the laboratory.

Elloharin the Dimmed watches as the two mages move about the small laboratory. Halbredan places the gem in a stand that seems almost alter like in it's decoration. Halbredan turns to the elf and wheezes.

"Don't just stand there boy, light these candles," he says, gesturing about the dark room.

While the mages continue to prepare for the divination of the gem, El moves about the room lighting the candles as he moves. The tools of magic lie strewn about the lab. El passes a bench with a rack of glass jars pressed up against the wall. Taking a closer look El sees jars filled with powders of all colors, some jars have notes written on them in a messy script, that he has trouble making out. One jar of a light greenish substance, appears to El to stand out from the rest. Without thinking he is reaching out toward the jar, and the mysterious character written on it's side.

"Don't touch that!" cracks Halbredan.

El's hand jumps back with the admonishment. The elf does not turn to look at the wizard. As the room lightens the smell of melted wax fills his nostrils. It is a pleasant smell to El, and he imagines it must be to the other mages as well. It fills him with comforting memories of long hours of study in the Grand Library. He hears Halbredan beginning to chant, and he perks his ears, listening to the arcane language he is just beginning to become familiar with.

Finishing with the last candle, El turns to look at the wizard at his work. He tracks his hands moving through the air in intricate motions. Elloharin's blood quickens as the room begins to throb with magic. He knows of course, that only the three of them could feel this throb and he thrills in being allowed within the brotherhood of these two powerful men. And then the throb is over with a sudden release. Halbredan releases a long breath of air. And smiles.

"It is done."

Later in the day, Halbredan reports on their findings, indicating the power of the gem and its ability to see the unseen. But his reports is soon interrupted by the knock at the door.

Marienna quickly opens the door and reaches her arms around the girl, who is really crying now. While hugging the stranger, Marienna looks to Crayne, mouthing the words, 'who is this?'

Crayne can barely speak. He knew that someday he would have to face her again. And try as he might, he just couldn't prepare himself to face her again. After all, it was he who left. He can only whisper.

"Melli..."

Emma looks confused as well. 'Who is this strange girl?' she wonders, 'Did the Highbrow develop some kind of relationship before he joined Rinder's Six?'

'And why not?' she reminds herself, 'Crayne's not as inhuman as you sometimes perceive him to be, girl...'

Hannibal lifts an eyebrow only, curious as to the relationship Crayne had at some point turned his back on. Had he mentioned her before, something about a fiance he had left behind?

El ignores her. He instead spends his time observing the wizard's dwelling.

Storm is caught with strands of vegetables hanging from his mouth as the woman starts crying. He sits there frozen, food hanging from his mouth and his eyes staring wide at Crayne and Melli, wondering just what on this plane was going to happen. He stays that way a moment after the door shuts, and then, with a chuckle, dives back into his soup.

Crayne stands there silent as the din around him is reduced to the crackle of wood on the nearby fire. He stares strongly into the eyes of Melli recapturing the image of her face which he had so strongly searched for in his thoughts and dreams since departing Halen. His heart was racing, unable to keep up with the images and scenes that were racing around his head. There was a great feeling of relief as well. Seeing her alive and well meant so much to Crayne and at the moment there was no way in the world that he would leave her again. They had had their troubles in the past, Crayne was first to admit, and he acknowledged now that he was mostly to blame.

'Look what I have done to her!' Crayne thinks as he stands there looking at her crying in the arms of Marienna with her long dark hair wrapped around the shoulders of the elder woman. "I am sorry.." He whispers.

It is then that his senses are retrieved from their numbed state. He looks around at the rest of the Six, Halbredan and his Uncle feeling a little awkward. He now considered himself respected amongst Rinder's Six and he didn't want any of them to see outward emotion from him. Perhaps he didn't want to reveal to Rinder's Six that he himself was only human just like the rest of them. Perhaps he saw it as a sign of weakness. It is then that he turns to the Six, not, however, taking his vision away from Melli.

"I feel it is the right time to leave you for a moment. I will be back later. But for now I let you decide what our next course should be. I feel perhaps that I have used my authority too often lately and that it is now time for the likes of Skandor, Elloharin and Alara to have their say."

Crayne makes his way to Marienna and Melli. As he does so he turns suddenly and looks to El. "It is time you and I had a talk for you are growing in strength."

He then turns to Halbredan, "What say you Sir? Do you think Elloharin the Dimmed could take good care of the gem of seeing?"

Halbredan clears his throat to answer Crayne. "The elf? He needs more training with magic. I can see the glint of promise in him, but he clearly lacks experience. Still, once he learns, perhaps the gem could find a place in his satchel."

It is then that Crayne takes Melli from the arms of Marienna. He looks into her eyes again feeling a mixture of pain and love in his heart. "Let us go and find a place where we can talk! For there is much to talk of!" Crayne says as he takes the hair from her eyes.

Skandor is slightly taken-aback with the entrance of a crying young lass, and Crayne's almost-stunned reaction. Skandor imagines the possibilities: A jilted love? Perhaps the mage chose his art over his love? Perhaps there may even be children involved!

The paladin fights to keep from pre-judging the mage, but for this lady to make this kind of entrance, say the things she said, and for Crayne to react the way he did...it does not bode well in the Sword Bearer's heart.

And the girl's words echo in his mind, "...it might be a long time before I see you again...if ever..." Those words didn't have any personal meaning to the paladin, but Skandor thought hard for a moment: they were most likely about to undertake a very dangerous mission. And as the girl had indicated to Crayne, it might be one from which he, or some of the others, may not return from.

He looks toward Emma; her actions and emotions as of late had been erratic, and they concerned the paladin. How would he approach her about that? Dare he speak with her, a superior, and risk her admonishment and temper? Or should he anyway, in an effort to improve her demeanor? And what of his request, he had said nothing so far, but would she deny him? The words of Crayne's friend ring in his ear, and his heart is filled with a sense of urgency. Sure, the group seemed safe in this quaint little town. Surely, while she worked with the mage, she would have no use for the Sword Bearer hovering over her shoulder. Perhaps she would even enjoy a small break from his presence? And in the presence of Halbredan, who would dare attempt to harm her? She would be safe, surely she could spare him for just a few short days.

While Crayne and his mysterious friend depart, Skandor approaches Emma and drops to one knee, his head bowed, staring directly at her mud-caked boots. He whispers to her, barely audible, attempting to hide the urgency in his voice. "Lady Emma, if it is decided that we are to remain here in Halen for the duration of the tome's deciphering, I ask of thee to allow me to depart your company for a period of no more than three days. It is all I shall ask of you. I have a personal...task, that I must perform, and since we very well may never pass through this region again, I should perform it now. Once completed, I shall return here straight-away, and shall endeavor to assist in preparing to find the Ring we now seek. I ask...nay, I beg of thee...allow me this short recess." He waits patiently for the Shield Maiden's response, his eyes still on her boots.

Emma gives a half-smile, amused at the Sword Bearer's formality. "Skandor," she says, placing one hand on her hip and tilting her chin downward as she gently chides him. "There's no need to kneel in front of me. I'm just a Shield Maiden," she says, "At best, I'm just on equal footing with Sword-Bearers like yourself. Maybe one day I'll be more than that. In fact, it's my wish to do so, but that is yet to come. Look, I know High Priest Towers assigned you as my 'guardian' but you don't have to take this assignment quite so seriously all the time."

She perceptively notes the paladin's slightly downfallen expression and quickly interjects, "Now, now...I'm not trying to belittle your devotion to duty. It's very admirable and one of your very best qualities, I'm sure. But let's just be friends, comrades, warriors in arms...not this general-footsoldier relationship that has you treating me like royalty all the time. Besides, I think it makes the others 'nervous' when they see you acting this way around me. Before long, they'll think I'm a Duchess in disguise or something."

The priestess gives a small laugh at her own joke. Even though she is a member of the noble family of Serralund, she has never seen herself ruling over anything more than one of Anhur's temples. She reaches down to pull Skandor back to his feet, and tilts her head back as their roles are reversed and she finally has to look up at him towering so tall above her. "Now what's this personal task you need to temporarily leave Rinder's Six in order to address?" she asks, "Is it something you can't discuss with me? No matter. I trust your judgement. If we decide to stay here in Halen for a week, then you may certainly go. At the very least, I'd recommend you tell me what path your journey will take. If you're not back in three days, then we'll know where to look for you."

Skandor looks Emma directly in the eyes for a few moments. "Perhaps I shall explain this small journey to you, sometime...when only you are around to suffer through its boring details," he says, glancing around at his companions with a soft smile. "But should we decide to stay, I shall depart in the morning for Merriam, or just southwest of Merriam. There is a place there that I need to visit. I reckon that Merriam is about a day's ride from here. A day to get there, one day at most while there, and a day back. Three days at most, total.

"But lady, if I am not back in that time, do not bother coming to look for me, for I shall be deceased. Nothing save death will keep me from returning here at the appointed time. The Ring is of far more importance than one person."

Canter listens to Skandor address Emma, wondering as she does what exactly the paladin needed to do in or around Merriam. But, figuring it was not for him to know--yet--he instead looks to the door, closing behind Crayne and Melli. Where had they gone? What had happened between them?

Crayne smiles as he holds Melli close to him. They both gaze into the distance casting their eyes over the forests and farmland that surround the small city of Halen. The wind blows strongly helping to dry Melli's tears. Crayne remains silent as he just enjoys the moment breathing in the sheer grace of life that engulfs him. It was here that Crayne had taken Melli when they had only just began courting. A hilltop just outside Halen with a view that stretched for miles. It was their spot and in their eyes would always be as long as they lived.

It seemed such a long time ago that they had last stood together in each others arms. So much fighting and sorrow had taken place since then. First, it was Crayne's excessive jealousy over Jarod, a young merchant's son who Melli had met whilst Crayne had been studying heavily with his mentor Old Halbredan. With Melli seeing this Jarod on a regular basis due to a strong trade agreement between their fathers, Crayne had grown evermore suspicious as the days had past. He had openly questioned Melli on numerous occasions about this suspected relationship, but Melli had merely laughed it off. With Crayne's arrogance and strong beliefs however, he wasn't happy until this Jarod was out of the picture all together.

Jarod was a striking man with long dark hair. His father was wealthy and Jarod stood to inherit all. He was a keen swordsman and as you would expect very confident with the ladies. On the few times that Crayne and Jarod had met the exchanges between the two of them were slight to say the least. On one particular night Crayne had taken Melli to one of the many drinking establishments that littered themselves through the streets of Halen. When they settled down to eat their evening meal, Jarod and some of his cronies

entered into the bar. With six of them in all they began to heckle and make jokes about Crayne, the weird looking square who rarely mixed with those his own age. With the gradual turmoil that had been building up in Crayne's heart--the jealousy and hate--Crayne blew his top. Standing tall Crayne made his way to the table of six and smashed his hand on their table.

Immediately retaliating the foolish Jarod unsheathed his sword from his golden sheath. It was then that Crayne used his opportunity to cast his first ever spell. With a panicked jumble of words Crayne had managed to focus his mind just like Halbredan had shown him and let off two magic missiles at Jarod. With a scream Jarod feel to the floor bleeding furiously. The other five of his friends ran quickly. On that day Jarod never involved himself with the trade dealings again.

A few months later arguments began to brew over how much time Crayne was spending in study with Old Habredan and in his Uncle Karelth's herb garden, tending to the fine array of herbs that his Uncle grew and sold to the local herbalists. Crayne had ignored her though at his peril. He had treated her badly rarely seeing her and when doing so arguments broke out. Crayne had been stubborn and refused to give any of his commitments up for her despite her obvious distress.

As the weeks past the two of them grew further apart when suddenly Crayne heard about the call for adventurers by the Knight Sir Nigel. When Crayne had delivered Melli the news she blew up in a fit of rage throwing anything she could get her hands on. Crayne saddened and deeply hurt knew that he couldn't waste any more of his time stuck in Halen. Melli was easily the strongest cause for him to stay, but in the end his heart told him that it was time to leave.

It was now, however, that Crayne was back and holding Melli in his arms again. He knew that he would have to leave her again soon, but for the moment he put that thought to the back of his mind. Melli was his love Crayne knew that and as far as he was now concerned she would always be. Once this war with Caerloon was over Crayne would come back for her, he knew that now.

Looking down at her Crayne whispers, "Sorry! I am sorry that I've caused so much pain! We are together now, that is what matters..."

Melli looks up, her darks eyes staring strongly into Crayne's, "I know, Crayne, that the Kingdom needs you and I will not stand in your way. But you must promise me that you'll come back when this is all over!"

"I promise!" Crayne says. "I promise!"

Emma finally raises the subject once again, saying, "We still need to decide on the translation of the book. Should we stay here and wait a week?" The priestess looks toward where Crayne and Melli stood as if to imply to everyone else the two would have a chance to spend some time together. "Or, should we depart for Caerloon and the Academy?" she asks, "This Durin's magical helm sounds fascinating, but it would seem there's no guarantee that he'll let us use it. Still, to instanteously gain the knowledge contained in this book would certainly speed things up.

"I prefer to stay and do things the hard way," Emma finally offers, hoping to start at least a quick round of voting on the issue.

"I agree," Alara says. It is clear that the girl is uneasy with the idea of traveling into Caerloon. "If it would take us just as long to travel as it would to just sit and wait, I'd rather just sit and wait."

Hannibal shrugs as his turn comes. "The last time we were in Caerloon we nearly all perished...I don't like the odds of trying to make that trek again, especially now that we are all a little more famous to boot! What I want to know is what would you have the rest of us do while you scholars are hitting the books?"

"Prepare for the road ahead?" Emma suggests, "As we begin to translate the portions of the book that give clues where the ring may lie, we might need to procure some new equipment. Are there any tools you might need to help us find and remove traps that we encounter? Lockpicks too, perhaps, if the ring rests inside a special vault or chest? Food. Winter-gear and clothing. Lamps and oil in case we venture deep underground. Anything is possible, I suppose."

Storm hungrily eats down some more hot soup. He takes a break only to speak his mind on the plans. "Arr, I hate sittin' around in one spot too long." More antsy feelings enter his body. "Caerloon, that monk place, it all be the same to this dwarf, but if we be stayin' here, I better be gettin' a way to move around a bit. I just want somethin' to *do.* An' some more o' this fine soup!" he praises, raising his goblet and flashing a friendly toothy smile to Halbredan's wife.

Skandor nods towards Alara. "I agree Alara and sir...I mean, I agree with Alara and Hannibal. If your last trip to Caerloon was so dangerous, this trip would be ten times that. Besides, there is no guarantee that this Durin would assist us. And what if he was in league with the Red Dragons? He apparently resides in one of their strongholds."

"We're uncertain that the Academy itself is a Red Dragon stronghold," Emma corrects the Sword Bearer, "Though obviously the nation of Caerloon, and particularly the northern parts are held by forces that have allied themselves with the Red Dragon renegades. So, your and Hannibal's observations are nonetheless valid. To venture into that territory would be to put ourselves at great risk. Of course, we knew we'd be facing that kind of thing the minute we agreed to undertake this quest."

Skandor continues, "However, here in this quaint little town, we have a powerful wizard already who has a method to decipher the tome, and whom at least one of our number trusts," he says. "Perhaps we will end up having to go there anyway, but I would suggest that we go there only as a last resort."

Emma nods and casts a worried glance toward Halbredan. "Obviously, the magics you employed in identifying the gemstone were quite draining, Master Halbredan. Is it safe to put more strain upon your health while we translate the book over the course of an entire week? If you feel the task is too great, my vote will quickly turn to Durin and his magical helm."

"I will survive the translation," Halbredan says unsteadily. "Though I will not be of much use for other purposes during that time," he looks to Elloharin as if to suggest that under other circumstances, he would have offered at least a quick lesson to the young mage.

"Meanwhile, Hannibal has asked what we shall do in the meantime," Skandor says. "Personally, I have some personal business that I need to take care of, which would take me away from here for two days, three at most...with Emma's permission, of course. The rest of that time I would spend either helping you, my companions, or aiding Halbredan and the people of the town in whatever ways I can. It is the least I can do for their hospitality."

Emma raises an eyebrow at Skandor's pronouncement. 'What could possibly be important enough to take him away from the quest for a few days?' she wonders, 'Does he need to report back to the Church?" She remains silent, however, preferring to think upon his request before simply granting him permission to leave her side. After all, she might need his protection the most while they translate the book.

Elloharin then addresses the group. "I think we should go to Caerloon. We're still a target aren't we? You can't think the Blood Clan or The Red Mages would expect us to actually enter the vipers den do you? And there are enough new faces in the group to pass ourselves off as another band of travelers. If we stay here for a week, we're asking for trouble. What if another giant comes? If all it takes to sway a hill giant is a sack of gold, then we could have an entire city of giants here in the next week. So what? We took out that giant pretty easily right? What about the rest of the city? Innocent bystanders, we can't protect everyone! I think were likely to be as safe in Caerloon as we are here, maybe more so." When the elf is finished he folds his hands in front of his chest and looks about him defiantly.

"The Elf raises a good point," Emma concedes, "The encounter with the Hill Giant in the mountains would seem to have been planned by our enemies. Rinder's Six was also ambushed the very night we first left Parton to participate in the Battle of Dillend. This seems to be a recurring theme in our lives lately. It's very likely our enemies still search for us. Staying here for an entire week will give them ample opportunity to find our trail...and in doing so, threaten the lives of those that are helping us."

Emma looks toward Halbredan and eventually his wife Marienna. The thought of Crayne's on-again, off-again relationship with Melli also enters her mind. "Is there a way to spend our time translating the book protected from the prying eyes of another wizard? I fear that Paros, the Duke's advisor, or even the Red Dragon renegades may be using magic to locate us. If we can't hide from them while we translate the book, it might be better if we kept moving...

"What do the rest of you think?"

The Sword Bearer ponders Elloharin's words, and the words of Emma. After a long moment, he speaks. "I still believe we should stay. If our enemies have the power to locate us in a small town, they will surely have the power to locate us no matter where we go, or what we do. The power of our foes seems such that, even if we move, it will be for nought: we shall be found.

"By remaining stationary until we are sure of a destination, we keep our foes guessing as to our plans. Our mere presence amongst hundreds of other people in a town will make it more difficult for some sort of mass assault on our group, as well. While this town may not be a garrisoned military outpost, still, it does provide us with some protection.

"And most importantly, I am still keeping the tome in mind. Here, we have a kindly wizard and his apprentice who will translate it for us. We have no such guarantee if we travel to meet this Durin. If his device is as powerful and unique as Halbredan has mentioned, I doubt that he would merely let us walk in, use the device, and walk out...without some sort of payment. And, of course...I am willing to bet that he will want to know why we need it, and I fear that the knowledge of this tome must remain as hidden as possible."

He turns towards Emma. "I highly recommend against traveling into Caerloon. It would be far more dangerous than it was the last time for you. Here, at least, you are in Rinder's lands. As your sworn protector, I implore you to remain here, where it is safer." Skandor leans back and listens to the others' input.

"I say we stay," Canter says, unfolding his hands and lowering them to his lap. "Skandor's points are well made. My gut tells me we will be returning to Caerloon eventually, whether in search of this Ring or as part of an offensive with Rinder's troops. I would rather stay out of that danger as long as possible."

"Okay, then," Halbredan says, noding slowly. "I will retire for the night and we will begin the translation tomorrow morning."

The next morning, Skandor joins Emma in the morning prayers. Shortly after, he slings his backpack over his shoulder, makes sure his horse's saddlebags are secure, and climbing into the saddle with simple ease, he departs for the town of Merriam at a gallop.

Later in the morning, Halbredan sets his favorite chair near a window, allowing the pale winter's sunlight over his shoulder as he holds the old, fragile tome in his lap. "My spellbook and stand!" he orders, prompting Elloharin to rush into the laboratory and return with the stand and the thick book on top. Placing it next to the chair, the old wizard begins to flip through the pages, muttering to himself as he does so, searching for just the right spell.

"Ahh, yes..." he says, his voice trailing off as he runs a finger beneath the first few lines of arcane text. The symbols look completely foreign to most in the room. Crayne doesn't know them, but he does recognize the familiar magical form. And Elloharin, though less skilled in the art of magic, recognizes the form as well. Seemingly, this Comprehend Languages spells is a relatively easy one.

Soon, the chanting begins, with the old wizard in his trembling voice, waving his hands slowly through the air over the cover of the book. After a few moments, he opens the book and begins to read aloud to Emma, who sits nearby, taking down his dictation word for word. The text is dense, and the language, though more familiar to the priestess, is still in an ancient form which will require some interpretation.

Her hand grows tired as he continues to read. Fortunately, Halbredan grows tired as well, and must rest, have some cool drink, and rememorize the spell every so often, giving Emma a chance to rest as well. By then end of the day's work they have read through nearly 150 pages, and both are exhausted. How much longer would it take? Probably three more days of pure translation, if they could keep up this pace.

As they work on the second day, Canter and Hannibal take some time to sit outside on the steps of Halbredan's home, enjoying watching the people of Halen as they pass by with their children, their shopping, or their wares. "I wonder how Skandor is doing," Hannibal says as his eyes follow a small child running to catch up with its mother in the street.

"Let us hope he doing well, accomplishing whatever task he set out to undertake," Canter replies, his voice distant as he thinks of the paladin. "And I wonder, too, how our old friend Naeron Thess is. These must be trying times in hallowed halls of Raimead."

"And exciting times, I reckon."

"Exciting, indeed..."

Two more days pass, and finally the entire book is translated. (Skandor has returned on time, as well.) Emma is greatly relieved that the first part of the process is finished, and she proudly holds a large stack of papers in her hands. True, her notes were quick and did not have the clarity and detail that a good, or even decent proper translation would have. But a decent and proper translation would have taken weeks or months, and they simply do not have that much time. Thanking the old wizard, Emma excuses herself to his laboratory, where she sits at the table and pours over the text before her.

The candles burn low and the empty cups and bowls, formerly filled with hot tea and warm soup, pile up at the end of the table. More time passes, for the interpretation is tedious and slow. Each sentence must be properly approached, then placed within the context of the paragraph, then the paragraph within the chapter. Metaphors must be explored. Occasional references to other ancient literary works must be exposed, and without a proper library, Emma is hard pressed to do as much as she can by memory. The exercise harkens back to her days learning ancient Anhurian philosophy and the weeks spent in the temple library. The difference now is that this is no excercise in the academic sense. This was real. This mattered.

And so many days later, a full ten days after their arrival in Halen, Emma finishes her interpretation of the tome. The bags beneath her eyes are dark and heavy as she emerges into the living room that evening, greeting the rest of Rinder's Six, Karelth, Melli, Marienna, and Halbredan (who is, by now, well rested).

"They were created by an ancient and powerful wizard by the name of Vohnungt," she states plainly, not bothering to introduce or preface her story. Centuries ago, at the time when the Kingdoms of Faren, Lenten, and Sinele were just forming. Before the Great Houses of Rinder were founded. Before the great uniter, King Henry I of Merriam, the founder of the Kingdom of Rinder, ten generations ago. Before, even, the formal of the Caste of Anhur as we know it today.

"He lived in a great castle on an island. That much we can tell for sure. Where this island was is hard to tell. There are the islands off the northwestern coast of the Duchy of Raimead, in the Northern Sea: Japeth's Island, and the island on which the King's palace, Jeroldham Castle, stands today. There are the two islands in the Sinele Sea, according to legend, which separated the Kingdoms of Lenten and Sinele, both of which were conquered and are today part of the Kingdom of Caerloon. I would venture to guess that the sea still stands, as would those islands. And then there are the Islands of Vile, which the tome suggests are in another ocean. By my guesses, the word the tome uses to name that ocean must correspond with what we know today to be the Cahrendhur Ocean: at the very southern end of the Caerloon.

"Still," she continues, inhaling deeply and slowly, "the location of the castle may or may not matter. It seems that Vohnungt had an arch-rival and in the year of the long winter, what the tome refers in the ancient parlance as the 'Friesementdu,' each wizard commanded whole armies of Orcs, Kobolds, Goblins, and Knolls which engaged each other in giant, massive battles on the plains in the center of the realm. I think, though I am not sure, that those plains are in the same place that we today call the 'Lowlands' in Rinder, Faren Ridge along the border, the 'Sea of Wheat,' and perhaps stretching even as far south as the Sinele Valley between today's cities of Fahren and Crossen, both in northern Caerloon.

"Vohnungt's rival, the powerful wizard Damacht, apparently began to summon some extra-planar entities. I cannot be sure what kind of entities, be they elemental, demons, genies, or whatever. The terminology in the tome is so ancient, and my familiarity with such beasts is so limited without the resources of a vast temple's library, that I just cannot be sure. But in order to defeat these vastly more powerful creatures in this game of strategy spanning across the realm, Vohnungt used the rings for the first time.

"The tome tells us that Vohnungt used the Ring of Earthen Command, supported by the powers of the Ring of Water Command and the Ring of Air Command. Apparently the Ring was powerful enough to slice through whole divisions of Damacht's army, shifting the land beneath their feet, raising it up, and burying them alive. Legend has it that as a result of this great earthly upheaval, a great ridge in the land was created: perhaps the ridge we rode down, Faren Ridge.

"Furious at the power Vohnungt was wielding, Damacht called upon nine dragons to come to his aide, promising them full reign over portions of the realm if they would help him defeat Vohnungt in this massive game of ego-stoking madness. Vohnungt, who at the time had only completed three of the rings, was at first unable to defeat the nine dragons, and in the process he lost his entire army. Driven by the scent of victory at hand, Damacht and his dragons pressed on, looking to capture Vohnungt for themselves. By employing the three rings he had created, Vohnungt finally destroyed the nine dragons, but only from the brink of defeat.

"Retreating back to his castle, Vohnungt began the forging of the fourth ring: The Ring of Fire Command. He had just finished the ring when Damacht arrived, with a legion of dragons, demons, and Storm Giants. They captured Vohnungt before he could combine the powers of the four rings. But because they were unaware that the fourth ring had been completed, they did not know to look for it before taking the other three and Vohnungt back with them to Damacht's stronghold, atop some tall mountain south of the great battleground.

"Like all powerful alliances, once Vohnungt and his three powerful rings were captured, Damacht, six of the dragons, two of the demons, and three of the Storm Giants under Damacht's command began fighting amongst themselves for possession of the powerful rings. They were, perhaps unaware that the power of the rings, while impressive individually, grows incredibly with their combination. Whatever happened in that great infighting atop that lone mountain we may never know. Who left there alive, and with which rings, we also simply do not know. We do know that somehow the Ring of Water Command made it into your hands, Karelth. But where the others are, if they have even been discovered, we don't know, and this tome certainly doesn't say.

"This tome," she pats the cover of the ancient and fragile book, "was compiled by an ancient and early follower of Hathe, the god of the arts and things creative in Rinder. Perhaps it was meant as an early draft of an epic poem which was to be based on this fantastic story. The cleric who wrote it apparently gathered his information from various sources, histories, legends and other written literatures from long-dead giants--the Storm Giants?--and even from Damacht's stronghold, wherever that may have been. He probably wrote one tome for each of the rings.

"This one ends with a scene from the wrecked and destroyed castle of Vohnungt, with a cold wind blowing through smashed stone towers, toying with a small golden ring--the Ring of Fire Command--as if it were a child's tricket. According to the tome, which we must recall is older than our Kingdom itself, the Ring of Fire Command was completed, but never used by Vohnungt. Damacht and his followers never knew about it, so they never knew to take it from Vohnungt's castle. And it is likely, this tome suggests, that the ring we seek is still there today."

~ The Quest for the Ring of Fire Command: [Home] [Previous Turn] [Next Turn] ~