Halahan
To die will be an awfully big adventure.
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This is a story I just started working on... I'd like any feedback or advice at all.
This is unrelated, but heres a link , go to 20 free wallpapers, really cool digital pics. www.digitalblasphemy.com
The Elite
Remnants of when time wasn’t time at all, but when everything was in exact order, a perfect mechanism of nature, so there was no thought to time since nothing could be associated with it, was hard to come by. It was in this era of Timelessness that the two factions of the world were at peace, even going so far as mixing amongst each other along the border. But what Tahlar Eomon found under the wide branches of a Sonnora Tree was infact from that era. He did not know this of course, but he was very curious about it all the same. It was a staff, made of what looked like pure diamond. It was carved intricately, in a perfectly straight line but with a very slight spiral of it going up. It was cut in a way that whatever you saw threw it looked sharper, clearer, but at the same time a beautiful sheen of white was cast on it. People didn’t use gems for decoration much, but they used the hardest stones they could get for some tasks, and diamond was the hardest of them all. Few would just leave it out here in the middle of the forest, tame as it is. The Halahan forest was wondrously alive, the greatest forest of the known world, but few beasts hurt humans. It filled the large border between the two factions of the world. In the West, Energy, and in the East, Matter. Those were the two basis Elements of all ‘Magic.’ It wasn’t really magic, just the manipulation of what you can be controlled, via different means. What some called magic was merely manipulating something, but not physically. He lived on the West Side, at the farther reaches of the Halahan forest, born of both Matter and Energy blood. His parents had met in a northern border city, named Datru, and had fallen in love almost immediately. His mother had convinced his father to come to Yi Yilimaf, the energy side of the world. Women had more power then most knew. Due to his blood heritage he had no talent (at least yet to be discovered) in either areas of manipulation. He did not truly mind, rather wanting to perfect his physical abilities. This was where he practiced. The Halahan forest. By this time after all his training he could sprint very fast, run for long amounts of time, climb almost any tree, walk as quiet as a cheetah, lift heavy loads, Jump high, and had very fast reflexes. He was rather good-looking too, though not in a handsome way. That day he was practicing balance.
Tahlar had a feeling in his mind, a pull rather, toward the east, but it felt rather close. It tugged at his conscience as he stood with his arms raised on either side of him as he slowly raised his right leg and bent it. He tried to focus on one thing, and noticed a white rock on the ground. He focused on it, clearing away all thoughts and feelings from his mind except that rock. Unbidden, another picture entered his head. The staff. Abruptly He tipped the left, and waving his arms wildly to try to right himself, he fell down into the soft grass. What a fool I must look like he thought, spitting a blade of grass out of his mouth and tasting something sourer. He got back up and surveyed the area around him. Everything was the same. What brought the staff into my head? He wondered, staring at the staff lying against the tree. “It must have been because it was laying there. Yes, that’s it.”
“Talking to yourself? That’s the first sign of madness, followed with looking like you, acting like you, and having me as your best friend.”
Tahlar looked up, to see his best friend walking nearer grinning. “Following me? I thought you knew better.”
Gyoh’s grin widened. “Of course not! That was a good fall though, excellent. Good form, and hitting your face at the exact angle so where you got grass in your mouth. Stupendous!”
“Thank you,” Tahlar said, mocking politeness and bowing. “What brings you into these fine pastures of emerald life and song?”
“Always the poet,” Gyoh replied.
“So, why did you come?”
“A Village Council has been called, over the issue of moving the Village farther South due to more blackfiend raids getting closer and closer to the village. I think we should stay, but the Energy Consultant is causing trouble and a few of the Mandarey and Womandarey actually believe him. Tuha should be able to sort it out though; his stare could melt the Earthen Wall.” He grinned. Everyone knew the temper and cold stare of the Leadarey that could topple a mountain and make a king bow to its knees.
“And they truly need me in these matters?” Tahlar asked, saying it as though the answer was obvious.
“Not necessarily, but by custom every member, no matter age or status should be present at a Village Council, and you know if all else fails, or lack there of then our village relies on Custom to sort out matters.”
“I’m flattered,” Tahlar grunted, walking over to the tree and grabbed the staff. Gyoh whistled. “Now what fine bush did you find that fall into your fruitless hands?” He asked boyishly.
“I thought I was the poet,” Tahlar said halfheartedly, but laughing all the same.
“You are, but it’s impossible to be a Gontol and not string words together like silk on a loom. That’s how every one is raised, and when we are no one is the wiser.”
“Sometimes I wonder why I befriended you.”
“Yet befriend me you did.”
“Alright, let’s get back,” Tahlar said, hosting the staff over my shoulder. He had never held diamond, but from what he had heard it was rather heavy, but this barely weighed anything. Probably four pounds altogether and completely balanced. They walked through the forest with a casual familiarity, as if it was there home. Indeed, it had been sometimes, when Tahlar and sometimes Gyoh wanted to get away from the Village, small as it was, and they stayed in the forest, hunting rabbits for food and climbing trees, things one would do in a peaceful forest. Often they had gotten lost, but managed to find they’re way back to a familiar place, laughing about it later. They were nearing the village, with small signs of more settled inhabitance, a footprint there, a small trail of smoke snaking up threw the sky, a chopped tree, but nothing saying a city. Merely a small Village, which was what it truly was. They broke threw the edge of the forest into a simple Village, with farms, houses, an Inn, owned by Tuha Ulry, the Leadarey. There were three hills slowly rising from the ground and going down again near the Village, making an ideal location for Sentries and giving the Village its name, ThreeRise. It was mid-morning, and inhabitances were already hard at work. A small hiss of steam was heard from the blacksmith’s house, who got up at the crack of dawn and worked no later then noon. An odd fellow, but he got his work done and did a fine job of it. The nearest Village, Farwatch, sometimes had people coming from there, claiming there blacksmith was Inadequate for such a critical piece, such as a scythe for farming. He gladly did the work, though no matter how much pleading that he must hurry, he never worked after noon. No one knew why he avoided it, yet no one questioned him.
They entered threw the Village main road which was off to the side of the forest and walked up to the Village Tree, taking a left.
The shop in which Tahlar and his father lived in was a small, comfortable place with two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a workplace. When he was young Tahlar had rarely been allowed in the workplace, and had been kept in his room if there was a customer. Apparently customers frowned on a child running around a place of business.
“What’s going around, Pa?” Tahlar asked. He never went to the Village Meetings, resolving that if man had sunk so low as to not do what was right then village matters were of small importance.
“Nothing, this door is giving me twice the work I had originally thought, and for half the money. I just wish to be done with it! Look! Did you see that? It’s mocking me!”
The door had fallen off the stand onto the floor. As his father fumed, Tahlar walked into his room. A simple quarter; a bed, a stool, a dresser. It was merely a place to sleep. His home was the village. That was where he would stay.
He still felt that pull toward the east… it never left. It too seemed to be mocking him, laughing every time he looked there, daring him to go. It agitated Tahlar to no extent, making him walk in circles around the stool, staff thumping against the ground, which Tahlar was very surprised to find that he still had. It was very much the same as finding out that you still had your arm. It had felt such a part of him. And still the tug toward the east! It was driving Tahlar insane.
“I’m going to go for a walk. I hope the door stops mocking you.” Tahlar told his father.
“So do I, my boy!” He said. “We have not begun!” My father laughed as Tahlar shut the door.
Tahlar found his feet to be carrying him to the town hall. The hall was a rather stately-looking large, one room building that served for all town meetings and inside gatherings. The white Plaster had faded from age and many shingles hung loose, but it was still the nicest looking building in all of ThreeRise. Tahlar saw few people heading toward it, since they were rather late. They entered, and luckily everybody was still getting situated. Tuha was at the front, hard as ever, on a tall rise in the floor, with two next to him. ThreeRise folk always seemed to like things looking proper and splendid, if they could still be efficient about it. Some visiting merchants and bards called the town, “The Efficient Queen,” because most tried to appear as stately as possible when any visitors were around. Tahlar did not like the name, for it spoke too much of elegance and frailty to him. Most didn’t think that though, and took it as a compliment.
“My friends, ladies, masters!” Tuha began, staring down everyone who still was not seated.
“Bemehu, our Anar Wesha advisor, thinks we must move the Village farther south because of Blackfiends daring to advance closer and closer to us, including raids on Farwatch. I for one do not wish to do this, but this is a village matter and I must take this thought into affairs. First, a show of hands, who wishes to remain here?” Tuha was trying to have a hard politeness to him. Every hand but three rose.
“Now we shall let Anar Bemehu speak and give reason for his suggestion.” He said, not stepping down from the platform but motioning Bemehu to stand on the platform on his right side.
Bemehu stepped onto the platform and inclined his head to Tuha. Even an Anar Wesha could falter under that gaze.
“Thank you Tuha. I for one will not see our village burned to the ground and pillaged by a horde of mad darkfiends. I personally wish to move the village farther south, closer to the capital if we need aid and farther away from the Earthen Wall. It would make sense, and give us much more peace, not to mention increased trade with Ma’Halela, the capital of Yi Yilimaf. Staying leaves us at great risk. It is our choice, but I advise strongly to move south. Only benefit will become us.”
He stepped down from the platform with dignity and waited silently as Tuha turned back to the crowd.
“Now that Anar Bemehu has spoken, a show of hands for who wants to move the village farther south.” Tuha said, with the shadow of a smirk. Nearly a third raised their hands. Tuha was surprised, but quickly hid it while he calmly counted the hands.
“The village shall stay. Now, we have no other matters to talk about, but as custom an open discussion for any who would like to speak of any.” Bemehu scanned the crowd with a large, black eye. To Tahlar’s surprise, it stopped on him and, more importantly, the staff, which Tahlar had forgotten to hide.
“Traitor! Thief! Coward! Servant of Death! Begone from this place!” Bemehu continued into undistinguishable rants, all the while pointing with his eyes wide at Tahlar and the staff. The townspeople grew uneasy.
“Calm yourself Bemehu! Why make such accusations?”
Bemehu lowered his voice slightly but did not calm. “That staff is the staff on a long forgotten man who used violence and deception to try to take over the world. He killed thousands, tearing apart the world, and said he would leave this staff, to be found by a chosen person to follow his trail and finish what he started! He must be killed!” A ripple spread through the townspeople, and some started hefting staffs and other implements that could be used against him, but unsurely.
“That’s crazy! Why would I do something like that?” Tahlar said, frightened. The townspeople started moving toward him slightly. “He is not touched by my manipulation that I cast on him! He must be killed!” The Townspeople surged forward. Tahlar thought they had more sense, had known it, in fact, as he sprinted away, but in this moment he knew they had turned into a mindless mob. He rushed into the edge of the forest, following the feeling that motioned him toward the east. A bright orange flashed out of a house nearby, and Tahlar doubled his pace. He went into a hard jog, knowing the townspeople were not up to a long-winded pursuit. Again, a bright orange flash shot from behind a tree and then disappeared. Tahlar angled away from it. After the shouts and curses of the people died away, Tahlar stopped at a stream to catch his breath and drink long earned water.
He organized his non-existing supplies, consisting of his staff, a white shirt, short brown pants, sturdy, fitted shoes, two dice from his pocket, and an apple. He quickly ate the apple and discarded it, hungry from running with fear. He felt a prickling sensation on his neck and he turned around. He was surprised, somehow, to find a tree. He turned back to have someone sitting in front of him.
Eastward
Cami (pronounced, C-Ah-mee), a slender but strong-built girl with long, light yellow-gold hair, sat on an upturned log in bright orange wool. Roughly four inches shorter then him, always smiling, always laughing. Tahlar had rarely talked to her. She looked at him, their eyes locking. Tahlar suddenly felt the urge to stare at her… she was… gorgeous. He glanced way, and the feeling stopped, but the sparks of it, so easy to relight, remained. She looked calm, but here eyes spoke of wariness of any sudden movements on his part. Amazingly, Tahlar was more calm then he had ever been in his life, right at the moment he should have been the most surprised. He spluttered for a moment, then spoke with a water-steady voice.
“How in the Wielder’s name did you manage to follow me, much less stay pace with me and appear out of nowhere?”
“Never mind that, but may I please come with you? I can help you, and I need to go.”
“Where?”
“Not there, anywhere, everywhere, just I have to go from that place! I need to go on an adventure, a journey! I’ve been held in that prison far too long.” She finished with a foreboding waver.
“What about your parents, your friends? Surely you love them, and why leave now?”
“Yes I love them, but I feel a growing detachment with them, and this is an excuse, or a way. I needed a companion. I get lonely easy and then I get so melancholy that I can’t move well for days.”
“Yes, you may travel with me, but I may be a madman and traitor bent on conquering the world through the killings of thousands. Sure you want to be friends with me?”
“That nonsense? I see something different, opposite in fact, of you. I think it will benefit me greatly to stay with you.” Tahlar suddenly felt bitter.
“So your staying with me just because you will benefit? Well then I will travel alone!” He felt even more bitter as he said this.
“I will greatly benefit knowing and being friends with you.” Tahlar realized what she meant and like lightning hid his embarrassment and switched the subject, saying, “Did the townspeople follow us?”
“Not into the forest, the madness seemed to be wearing off.” She said, her voice saddening. “What came over them I will never know. Not even I could stop them.”
“What are you talking about, they would have torn you to shreads. How would you have stopped them?”
“I don’t know, I have a way with people.” She left the sentence hanging, almost inviting him to figure out what she meant. He resisted the urge and got up.
“We should find camp. A place where there is some small shelter. Where we feel safe.”
This is unrelated, but heres a link , go to 20 free wallpapers, really cool digital pics. www.digitalblasphemy.com
The Elite
Remnants of when time wasn’t time at all, but when everything was in exact order, a perfect mechanism of nature, so there was no thought to time since nothing could be associated with it, was hard to come by. It was in this era of Timelessness that the two factions of the world were at peace, even going so far as mixing amongst each other along the border. But what Tahlar Eomon found under the wide branches of a Sonnora Tree was infact from that era. He did not know this of course, but he was very curious about it all the same. It was a staff, made of what looked like pure diamond. It was carved intricately, in a perfectly straight line but with a very slight spiral of it going up. It was cut in a way that whatever you saw threw it looked sharper, clearer, but at the same time a beautiful sheen of white was cast on it. People didn’t use gems for decoration much, but they used the hardest stones they could get for some tasks, and diamond was the hardest of them all. Few would just leave it out here in the middle of the forest, tame as it is. The Halahan forest was wondrously alive, the greatest forest of the known world, but few beasts hurt humans. It filled the large border between the two factions of the world. In the West, Energy, and in the East, Matter. Those were the two basis Elements of all ‘Magic.’ It wasn’t really magic, just the manipulation of what you can be controlled, via different means. What some called magic was merely manipulating something, but not physically. He lived on the West Side, at the farther reaches of the Halahan forest, born of both Matter and Energy blood. His parents had met in a northern border city, named Datru, and had fallen in love almost immediately. His mother had convinced his father to come to Yi Yilimaf, the energy side of the world. Women had more power then most knew. Due to his blood heritage he had no talent (at least yet to be discovered) in either areas of manipulation. He did not truly mind, rather wanting to perfect his physical abilities. This was where he practiced. The Halahan forest. By this time after all his training he could sprint very fast, run for long amounts of time, climb almost any tree, walk as quiet as a cheetah, lift heavy loads, Jump high, and had very fast reflexes. He was rather good-looking too, though not in a handsome way. That day he was practicing balance.
Tahlar had a feeling in his mind, a pull rather, toward the east, but it felt rather close. It tugged at his conscience as he stood with his arms raised on either side of him as he slowly raised his right leg and bent it. He tried to focus on one thing, and noticed a white rock on the ground. He focused on it, clearing away all thoughts and feelings from his mind except that rock. Unbidden, another picture entered his head. The staff. Abruptly He tipped the left, and waving his arms wildly to try to right himself, he fell down into the soft grass. What a fool I must look like he thought, spitting a blade of grass out of his mouth and tasting something sourer. He got back up and surveyed the area around him. Everything was the same. What brought the staff into my head? He wondered, staring at the staff lying against the tree. “It must have been because it was laying there. Yes, that’s it.”
“Talking to yourself? That’s the first sign of madness, followed with looking like you, acting like you, and having me as your best friend.”
Tahlar looked up, to see his best friend walking nearer grinning. “Following me? I thought you knew better.”
Gyoh’s grin widened. “Of course not! That was a good fall though, excellent. Good form, and hitting your face at the exact angle so where you got grass in your mouth. Stupendous!”
“Thank you,” Tahlar said, mocking politeness and bowing. “What brings you into these fine pastures of emerald life and song?”
“Always the poet,” Gyoh replied.
“So, why did you come?”
“A Village Council has been called, over the issue of moving the Village farther South due to more blackfiend raids getting closer and closer to the village. I think we should stay, but the Energy Consultant is causing trouble and a few of the Mandarey and Womandarey actually believe him. Tuha should be able to sort it out though; his stare could melt the Earthen Wall.” He grinned. Everyone knew the temper and cold stare of the Leadarey that could topple a mountain and make a king bow to its knees.
“And they truly need me in these matters?” Tahlar asked, saying it as though the answer was obvious.
“Not necessarily, but by custom every member, no matter age or status should be present at a Village Council, and you know if all else fails, or lack there of then our village relies on Custom to sort out matters.”
“I’m flattered,” Tahlar grunted, walking over to the tree and grabbed the staff. Gyoh whistled. “Now what fine bush did you find that fall into your fruitless hands?” He asked boyishly.
“I thought I was the poet,” Tahlar said halfheartedly, but laughing all the same.
“You are, but it’s impossible to be a Gontol and not string words together like silk on a loom. That’s how every one is raised, and when we are no one is the wiser.”
“Sometimes I wonder why I befriended you.”
“Yet befriend me you did.”
“Alright, let’s get back,” Tahlar said, hosting the staff over my shoulder. He had never held diamond, but from what he had heard it was rather heavy, but this barely weighed anything. Probably four pounds altogether and completely balanced. They walked through the forest with a casual familiarity, as if it was there home. Indeed, it had been sometimes, when Tahlar and sometimes Gyoh wanted to get away from the Village, small as it was, and they stayed in the forest, hunting rabbits for food and climbing trees, things one would do in a peaceful forest. Often they had gotten lost, but managed to find they’re way back to a familiar place, laughing about it later. They were nearing the village, with small signs of more settled inhabitance, a footprint there, a small trail of smoke snaking up threw the sky, a chopped tree, but nothing saying a city. Merely a small Village, which was what it truly was. They broke threw the edge of the forest into a simple Village, with farms, houses, an Inn, owned by Tuha Ulry, the Leadarey. There were three hills slowly rising from the ground and going down again near the Village, making an ideal location for Sentries and giving the Village its name, ThreeRise. It was mid-morning, and inhabitances were already hard at work. A small hiss of steam was heard from the blacksmith’s house, who got up at the crack of dawn and worked no later then noon. An odd fellow, but he got his work done and did a fine job of it. The nearest Village, Farwatch, sometimes had people coming from there, claiming there blacksmith was Inadequate for such a critical piece, such as a scythe for farming. He gladly did the work, though no matter how much pleading that he must hurry, he never worked after noon. No one knew why he avoided it, yet no one questioned him.
They entered threw the Village main road which was off to the side of the forest and walked up to the Village Tree, taking a left.
The shop in which Tahlar and his father lived in was a small, comfortable place with two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a workplace. When he was young Tahlar had rarely been allowed in the workplace, and had been kept in his room if there was a customer. Apparently customers frowned on a child running around a place of business.
“What’s going around, Pa?” Tahlar asked. He never went to the Village Meetings, resolving that if man had sunk so low as to not do what was right then village matters were of small importance.
“Nothing, this door is giving me twice the work I had originally thought, and for half the money. I just wish to be done with it! Look! Did you see that? It’s mocking me!”
The door had fallen off the stand onto the floor. As his father fumed, Tahlar walked into his room. A simple quarter; a bed, a stool, a dresser. It was merely a place to sleep. His home was the village. That was where he would stay.
He still felt that pull toward the east… it never left. It too seemed to be mocking him, laughing every time he looked there, daring him to go. It agitated Tahlar to no extent, making him walk in circles around the stool, staff thumping against the ground, which Tahlar was very surprised to find that he still had. It was very much the same as finding out that you still had your arm. It had felt such a part of him. And still the tug toward the east! It was driving Tahlar insane.
“I’m going to go for a walk. I hope the door stops mocking you.” Tahlar told his father.
“So do I, my boy!” He said. “We have not begun!” My father laughed as Tahlar shut the door.
Tahlar found his feet to be carrying him to the town hall. The hall was a rather stately-looking large, one room building that served for all town meetings and inside gatherings. The white Plaster had faded from age and many shingles hung loose, but it was still the nicest looking building in all of ThreeRise. Tahlar saw few people heading toward it, since they were rather late. They entered, and luckily everybody was still getting situated. Tuha was at the front, hard as ever, on a tall rise in the floor, with two next to him. ThreeRise folk always seemed to like things looking proper and splendid, if they could still be efficient about it. Some visiting merchants and bards called the town, “The Efficient Queen,” because most tried to appear as stately as possible when any visitors were around. Tahlar did not like the name, for it spoke too much of elegance and frailty to him. Most didn’t think that though, and took it as a compliment.
“My friends, ladies, masters!” Tuha began, staring down everyone who still was not seated.
“Bemehu, our Anar Wesha advisor, thinks we must move the Village farther south because of Blackfiends daring to advance closer and closer to us, including raids on Farwatch. I for one do not wish to do this, but this is a village matter and I must take this thought into affairs. First, a show of hands, who wishes to remain here?” Tuha was trying to have a hard politeness to him. Every hand but three rose.
“Now we shall let Anar Bemehu speak and give reason for his suggestion.” He said, not stepping down from the platform but motioning Bemehu to stand on the platform on his right side.
Bemehu stepped onto the platform and inclined his head to Tuha. Even an Anar Wesha could falter under that gaze.
“Thank you Tuha. I for one will not see our village burned to the ground and pillaged by a horde of mad darkfiends. I personally wish to move the village farther south, closer to the capital if we need aid and farther away from the Earthen Wall. It would make sense, and give us much more peace, not to mention increased trade with Ma’Halela, the capital of Yi Yilimaf. Staying leaves us at great risk. It is our choice, but I advise strongly to move south. Only benefit will become us.”
He stepped down from the platform with dignity and waited silently as Tuha turned back to the crowd.
“Now that Anar Bemehu has spoken, a show of hands for who wants to move the village farther south.” Tuha said, with the shadow of a smirk. Nearly a third raised their hands. Tuha was surprised, but quickly hid it while he calmly counted the hands.
“The village shall stay. Now, we have no other matters to talk about, but as custom an open discussion for any who would like to speak of any.” Bemehu scanned the crowd with a large, black eye. To Tahlar’s surprise, it stopped on him and, more importantly, the staff, which Tahlar had forgotten to hide.
“Traitor! Thief! Coward! Servant of Death! Begone from this place!” Bemehu continued into undistinguishable rants, all the while pointing with his eyes wide at Tahlar and the staff. The townspeople grew uneasy.
“Calm yourself Bemehu! Why make such accusations?”
Bemehu lowered his voice slightly but did not calm. “That staff is the staff on a long forgotten man who used violence and deception to try to take over the world. He killed thousands, tearing apart the world, and said he would leave this staff, to be found by a chosen person to follow his trail and finish what he started! He must be killed!” A ripple spread through the townspeople, and some started hefting staffs and other implements that could be used against him, but unsurely.
“That’s crazy! Why would I do something like that?” Tahlar said, frightened. The townspeople started moving toward him slightly. “He is not touched by my manipulation that I cast on him! He must be killed!” The Townspeople surged forward. Tahlar thought they had more sense, had known it, in fact, as he sprinted away, but in this moment he knew they had turned into a mindless mob. He rushed into the edge of the forest, following the feeling that motioned him toward the east. A bright orange flashed out of a house nearby, and Tahlar doubled his pace. He went into a hard jog, knowing the townspeople were not up to a long-winded pursuit. Again, a bright orange flash shot from behind a tree and then disappeared. Tahlar angled away from it. After the shouts and curses of the people died away, Tahlar stopped at a stream to catch his breath and drink long earned water.
He organized his non-existing supplies, consisting of his staff, a white shirt, short brown pants, sturdy, fitted shoes, two dice from his pocket, and an apple. He quickly ate the apple and discarded it, hungry from running with fear. He felt a prickling sensation on his neck and he turned around. He was surprised, somehow, to find a tree. He turned back to have someone sitting in front of him.
Eastward
Cami (pronounced, C-Ah-mee), a slender but strong-built girl with long, light yellow-gold hair, sat on an upturned log in bright orange wool. Roughly four inches shorter then him, always smiling, always laughing. Tahlar had rarely talked to her. She looked at him, their eyes locking. Tahlar suddenly felt the urge to stare at her… she was… gorgeous. He glanced way, and the feeling stopped, but the sparks of it, so easy to relight, remained. She looked calm, but here eyes spoke of wariness of any sudden movements on his part. Amazingly, Tahlar was more calm then he had ever been in his life, right at the moment he should have been the most surprised. He spluttered for a moment, then spoke with a water-steady voice.
“How in the Wielder’s name did you manage to follow me, much less stay pace with me and appear out of nowhere?”
“Never mind that, but may I please come with you? I can help you, and I need to go.”
“Where?”
“Not there, anywhere, everywhere, just I have to go from that place! I need to go on an adventure, a journey! I’ve been held in that prison far too long.” She finished with a foreboding waver.
“What about your parents, your friends? Surely you love them, and why leave now?”
“Yes I love them, but I feel a growing detachment with them, and this is an excuse, or a way. I needed a companion. I get lonely easy and then I get so melancholy that I can’t move well for days.”
“Yes, you may travel with me, but I may be a madman and traitor bent on conquering the world through the killings of thousands. Sure you want to be friends with me?”
“That nonsense? I see something different, opposite in fact, of you. I think it will benefit me greatly to stay with you.” Tahlar suddenly felt bitter.
“So your staying with me just because you will benefit? Well then I will travel alone!” He felt even more bitter as he said this.
“I will greatly benefit knowing and being friends with you.” Tahlar realized what she meant and like lightning hid his embarrassment and switched the subject, saying, “Did the townspeople follow us?”
“Not into the forest, the madness seemed to be wearing off.” She said, her voice saddening. “What came over them I will never know. Not even I could stop them.”
“What are you talking about, they would have torn you to shreads. How would you have stopped them?”
“I don’t know, I have a way with people.” She left the sentence hanging, almost inviting him to figure out what she meant. He resisted the urge and got up.
“We should find camp. A place where there is some small shelter. Where we feel safe.”
Stinman 
