Vagabonds

If Corvus had been paying closer attention, if he could have steadied his nerves long enough to study the old man's face, he might have caught the brief expression of apathy. The feathered fellow missed it but Donovan did not, and he quickly obscured his lethargy with an illusion of compassion. Beneath the compassion, and further below the indifference, was a smoldering frustration with his inability to genuinely give a rat's ass anymore.

It wasn't the time for it, but Donovan pondered anyway, wondering if one's inner-self mattered beside the actions of one's outer-self. If he reached out and saved the warrior, all the while completely bored with either outcome, would that deed still be righteous? If she was saved her limb because of him, would the result be cheapened by the motivation?

With an apparition of altruism he bent low and reached into his sack, drawing out an ointment and a basic sewing kit. He placed one hand upon Lynn's forehead and focused his energy into his palm, intending a calm to overtake her before applying the salve and closing the wounds. Despite his old age his hands were astoundingly steady.

Lynn heard the battle before she saw it. Men and women were yelling to each other for positions, yelling at Lynn for orders, praying softly to themselves. Lynn's eyes opened. She was at Cumolus Keep of Thunderball Ray. The bulk of their forces had been rerouted to force the army of monstrosities to this choke point. Here along with 30 or so other volunteers were going to hopefully stymie the invasion until Exemplar Turric could arrive with the full might of Anatolia to bear against the horde. Cumolus Keep was a ruin but still provided cover and a choke point. If this fight had any hope it was because of this position. If Lynn hadn’t chosen when she did they wouldn't have reached it in time. As positions go it was a reach for reinforcements. But anywhere else and they might not have taken the bait. From here it was a straight shot into Lautrec, Lynn’s hometown, of which many of the volunteers heralded from. Every soldier had stakes but none more so than this bunch. Lynn felt her shoulders shaking. It was Pennigowen or Penni for short. She was Lynn’s childhood training partner and one of her most trusted warriors. Short of stature with a snub nose and short hair. In another world she could have been a fetching village maiden. Here she was a soldier.
“Lynn, snap out of it we need you here”
Gathering her focus Lynn started directing the company. Strategically placing spears and bows to further the funnel towards where she would be alongside her handpicked few who would take the brunt of the vanguard. People she trusted. People she loved. People that would not survive if she was wrong. She closed her eyes to center herself. Any moment now she would hear the pounding hooves...

Despite his best efforts Donovan couldn't calm the dreams of the wounded warrior. His hand was still fixed on her forehead, now soaked in sweat, and he continued to mumble incoherently under his breath. Either Corvus couldn't hear the words or he didn't understand them. It didn't matter, the words were having as much effect as diakk flying lessons, and were proving nearly as fatal.  

He felt a deep connection with this woman. Rather than spreading a sensation of tranquility, Donovan instead felt her terror. His eyes rolled backwards and his jaw slacked. He couldn't see what she saw, but he could hear the tempo of war drums.

Thunder struck in his skull, his eyes shot shut and back open again sending the monk toppling over and gasping for air. This fear was the first emotion he felt honestly in the last decade. Perhaps it was not his illusion of tranquility that reached within her, but something from within him that fed her own nightmares...

A smile spread across his face. This time it was no mere illusion. This time it was a reminder that he was still alive.

He placed his hand again firmly on her forehead.

The old human, who who knelt next to Lynn with a grace that didn't match his appearance, began helping the warrior and Corvus felt relieved. Until the man had some kind of fit. Panic blossomed in the mage’s chest with a renewed urgency.
Luckily the fit lasted only a few moments and actually seemed to give the codger some sort of sense of elation. (or maybe the man was having a stroke, Corvus still wasn't used to the way humans contorted their faces)
As the man began applying a salve and mending Lynn’s wound, Corvus leaned in a bit to get a better view.
“You have similar tools to the chiurgeons of my home. Are you a physician?” the feathered mage asked, his finger absently tracing a swirling rune on the Tome on his hip.

The only entrance to Cumolus Keep for the attackers was flanked by impassable cliff faces that filtered into the mouth of a covered hall. Perfect for defending, forcing the invaders to engage them in melee instead of relying on range to thin the defenders. The landscape prevented siege equipment so they were safe from the monsters collapsing the roof on top of them. The hall was littered with stones protruding from the ground. The stones were such that riding any sort of cavalry or what ever animal they rode would have trouble maneuvering between them. This protected them from a straight charge. The enemy would have to come on foot to engage. Lynn was hoping that in this corridor they could hold off long enough for reinforcements to arrive. If it came to it she could always collapse the tunnel herself using the power of her sword.
Lynn’s sword was a treasure of her village. Foraged out of lightning on top of a mountain and made steel. Or so the legend says. However, to the legend’s credit the sword had the supernatural property of when a warrior focused their intent the sword could conjure a bolt of lightning. It was dangerous to use more than once at a time. Every time a bolt was cast the sword would begin to heat. After one the blade is red hot but otherwise fine. After two the blade would transfer heat into the user. Three times lead to unfortunate ends. With this power she could level most things in front of her. As a last resort she would use it to bring the keep walls crumbling down, causing huge losses and forcing the invaders to find a different route. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.
While Lynn was going through her strategy she heard Penni shout. They were here.

Donovan aligned his hand along the arch of her brow and tried to peer within the woman as he had before. The wanderer had wandered so long that few things surprised him. When he practiced at something, and practiced it long enough, he could master it. But he had never once practiced dream-seeing...

It was like peering into the novice's book of illusions. One had only to relax their eyes and look past the image, coaxing the secret symbols closer while simultaneously reaching out for them, like skulking slowly to catch an unsuspecting hare. It was perplexing that this was coming so naturally to him, as nothing had ever come naturally to him before.

Before his senses could resume form within her subconscious, he heard the words of his new companion. He grabbed hold firmly to the immaterial and answered without opening his eyes.

"I became familiar with the cotton boll when they basked in the sun on the shrub, no more than an infant without aspirations. They sought only the warmth and the warmth was given with excess. After we spoke for many-a, many-a, many-a moon, we agreed that they deserved company besides the warmth hours and the warmth not hours. I introduced them to the flax and the hemp, whom I had spent many-a, many-a, many-a moon before befriending. As I had so sincerely hoped, they made something more with the sum of their new aspirations..."

He hadn't really answered the young avian's question. Instead he became briefly distracted with befriending the hemp before taking a hold again of the immaterial ladder and it's dark descent downward.

By the blue flame, he was a madman! Spouting nonsense about befriending seeds and plant matter. And Corvus had interested the life of his friend to him!
The thought of “friend” gave the mage pause. He barely knew the woman, and he didn't really owe her anything. Sure she had given him a room for the night, but she had also tried to kill him in the lightless early dawn not twelve chimes later. The winged man could just leave, the roof was nearly nonexistent after Lynn’s lightning strike.
His midnight feathers rustled softly as his wings slightly spread, eager to bear Corvus aloft. Yet there was a hesitation in the back of his mind about abandoning the female warrior. Maybe the wizard could incapacitate the lunatic and make off with Lynn, find a temple to one of the human gods of light or life to mend her wounds. But moving her might exacerbate her wound, and even if it didn't get any worse she might bleed out before Corvus could even find a healer! It seemed there was nothing he could do for Lynn. If only the man would do something! So far all he’d done was rub Lynn’s brow and have a small epileptic fit.
By the blue flame, he felt so useless!
“Blue flame…” Corvus muttered, an idea quickly taking form.
The mage knelt by the warrior, across form the insane human, and peered at her still bleeding wound.
“I am going to cease the bleeding, be ready to hold her.”, the mage said to the codger, halve expecting another spout of gibberish.
Without waiting for any form of acknowledgement, Corvus uttered the short mystic phrase of a cantrip that set a minute flame dancing at his fingertip. He willed the flame to lengthen till it was about the size of his middle finger.
“Sorry about this, Lady”, Corvus whispered as he laid the flame across the open wound. It sizzled as the edges melted together and gave off the stench of charred meat. The mage quickly extinguished his flame and stepped away from the prone woman.

The first wave had gone well.

The invaders were a veritable chimera of races. Hobgoblins and Orcs banded together under a mysterious banner that guided their strategies. However, the first charge had not taken into consideration the stones in the tunnel and failed miserably. Riders bolted in only to find that their steeds crippled by the stones. From there the attack was reduced to a clean up. A good battle for moral but Lynn knew better. They would be more careful next time. One of her men had received a wound from one of the riders. Not serious if treated. The opponent would not give them that courtesy. The next battalion was moving. The opposing army hid their numbers behind the crest of the hill. There was no way to know how their numbers swelled or thinned. No way to know when they were coming until they were dedicated to the fight.

The next wave went from marching to double timing. Then double timing to running. Next thing Lynn knew they were upon her. She readied herself as the first brute approached. Without hesitation she cut the beast under the arm in a upward swing and flowed immediately to the next. Expertly she moved from foe to foe slaying them seemingly with ease. Never stopping, dancing back and forth, holding her line. Trusting her comrades to do the same. She could hear them shouting as they too cut through the invading horde. The soldiers that had followed her were in a more defensible line carrying out the battle efficiently.

Lynn’s strategy involved disrupting the charge while her comrades took advantage of the confusion in the bottleneck. It was a risky tactic. One that relied on Lynn’s prowess in battle. It was Penni’s role to keep an eye on Lynn to make sure she never became surrounded or overwhelmed. Penni had sharp eyes and quick reflexes and could perfectly thrust her spear into any orc or goblin that tried to get smart and try to attack Lynn from behind. The plan was only possible due to the years of training and trust Lynn had built with her countrymen. Lynn was able to focus on landing crippling blows while the other soldiers picked off what she struck.

The bodies began to pile around them. Although Lynn’s sword was becoming heavier and heavier in her hands and her body screamed for reprieve she did not slow. She heard the beat of the war drum change and the sound of a horn echoed around the walls of the keep. The attacking force began to part to reveal a large figure. Clad in black armor and furs she saw a massive orc missing an eye and wielding a cruel black sword. The sword would be large for an any orc but in the hands of this one it didn’t look out of place. It had an undulating blade resembling dark flame. The rage emanating from the monster created a thickness in the air. Lynn felt like she could hardly breath. She glanced back at her men. They were all feeling it as well. Some dropping to their knees, some beginning to panic. Lynn caught saw even Penni study as she was visibly struggling to stay conscious. Lynn’s sword began to shake and lower. She snapped back to the Orc approaching and renewed her guard. She began to shuffle her feet back, slowly retreating from the malevolent force but the One-Eye was lumbering toward her with murderous purpose.

Steeling herself she moved forward and swung at the beast. With startling speed he deflected and Lynn feinted and sidestepped around to the left. Putting one hand on her blade she pressed it against the monster’s thick arm and quickly pulled away in a ripcord strike. It was a shallow wound but Lynn used the momentum to create some distance and hopefully pull it’s attention away from her forces, inviting them to counter from behind. The orc in a flash struck at Lynn from overhead. With both hands still on her sword she blocked the blow. With their swords locked the orc raked his wavy sword down Lynn’s causing excruciating vibrations in her arms. Breaking her concentration the orc followed with a full body shoulder check that sent Lynn careening into the wall. With a crash Lynn lost her breath. Dazed she could barely focus enough to see Penni strike out at the orc with her spear piercing the abdomen of the One-Eye. He turned and struck her down as the horde began to charge once again. Lynn felt helpless as she fought to stand, to shout, to breathe.

Just then a new presence filled her. Where she had been drowning in the aura of madness she now felt as if she was being lifted. Lynn saw the rear ranks of the horde become thrown into disarray. As the entire forced focused all of it’s collective attention on the new development. As bodies of the enemy began to be swept back from a new warrior. Tall, radiant, and beautiful wielding a long bladed polearm this new warrior smote all that approached them. Lynn invigorated by their presence called her comrades to charge. Lynn headed straight for the warrior who was engaged with the One-Eyed orc. Lynn reached the warriors side as they began to fight side by side. Each moment Lynn could feel a power and energy like she had never know. Lynn went to steal a glimpse of her savior's face. As their eyes met….

Lynn felt a burning sensation all around her as the vision plunged into darkness. Falling through the black abyss she caught glimpses of a dock. A ship. Creatures of the sea. An island.

Lynn’s eyes flew open. She sat up quickly only to become aware of the sharp pain in her side. She grappled with the pain for a moment before examining her surroundings. She was in the back of a cart. Laying in a bed of straw. The cart was moving and she could hear voices in the front.

The creaks, rattles, and hoof falls were the song of the unsettled strangers, and Donovan hummed and ho'ed along the way. The old traveller was completely enthralled in thought. He had glimpsed something within the girl that he didn't understand. If he had to put a name to it, he would say that she seemed to be a piece to a puzzle he had thought was complete. Perhaps it was like following directions, looking North, East, South, and West, only to find out he should have been looking up.

Suddenly he remembered, he had made TWO new friends, and one of them was perfectly conscious.

"Summer's day, little wagtail. Why don't you recount the story of how you met this dainty flower?"

The borrowed cart and horse were rickety and mangey respectively, but as the old man had said “Those in rags and squaller have not the luxury of deciding what gifts are bestowed upon them”. So they had taken the most convenient route from the city, which involved taking an abandoned wagon and an aged mare. Corvus had given the beast a magical boost to strengthen her back and aid in their departure.
The magic that bolstered the horse had run out hours ago, but it had lasted long enough to get them miles from the port city. Donavan(the man had introduced himself as such) had been quiet since the departure and Corvus took advantage of the lull in conversation to study the Tome. It had opened to a pedantic article on the darker arts of necromancy. The bulk of the essay was on the animation of the dead. Maybe the Tome was making a suggestion should the female warrior succumb to her wounds? Although Corvus hailed from a land where the dead were bought and sold like any other commodity, he had never had opportunity nor need to practice the raising of corpses. The winged mage knew, however, that most races and civilizations viewed necromancy as unswervingly evil and zealously stamped it out whenever it was detected. A knight would surly view the raising of her corpse to be an unsanctimonious and debased act. A small voice in the back of Corvus’s mind pointed out that all arcane magic was at best frowned upon by the vast majority of the populace, so who were they to decide what was right?
The winged wizard found himself rereading the same sentence over and over as he continued to silently fume.
“… this dainty flower?”, Donavan’s voice intruded upon his thoughts and chased the foul mood away. Corvus hadn't even been aware that he was getting angry! Though it had been happening more frequently since his escape from servitude.
“P-parden?” the mage stammered, uncertain of what the old human had asked him.
Donavan beamed at him as if enjoying a secret joke.
“Why don't you recount the story of how you met this dainty flower?” he asked a second time.
The wizard couldn't help but smirk a little at Lynn being referred to as “dainty”, if she heard she’d probably punch the man in his leathery face.
“Lady Lynn invited me to share her room for the night, we were to seek passage on a ship this day but I fear we will have to find longer, more strenuous means of passage.”
“So our fair lady knight invited you to her room for the night? Long and strenuous was probably what she hoped for!”
Corvus blushed in embarrassment as the codger began guffawing.
Humans were strange.

“He isnt really my type” Lynn said as stable as she could. She was wounded, in a moving wagon, and had just woke up. Needless to say she was not as lucid as she would have liked.
“Where are we going?”

"Oh ho ho! Wildflowers bloom in inhospitable places, they say! Good morning, good morrow, good day!" He was delighted to see her spring, her scent entranced him. Or rather the stank of her destiny gave him respite from his boredom.

"We are eastward bound. Little Wagtail mentioned the need of a ship, and you don't get as old as I am without making a few friends..."

He placed his hand on his heart and feigned wistful, theatrical nostalgia.

"It was a grand romance, surely. But who could compete with the sea and all it's depth?"