©1994-2001 Ian A. Ralph & Kelly C. Naylor Chapter VI: Night's Danger Roark smiled at Timor's comment, and was about to respond, when an ear-splitting scream erupted from the interior of the inn. In a flash, both men had their swords ready, and Roark shoved the door open. Roark opened the door to see Fiji cowering in the cascades of Jehane's blonde hair and an hysterical serving girl pointing to the flikat. Jehane was doing her best to calm both the startled flikat and the terrified serving girl. "Dora, tis just Timor's flikat... you've seen Fiji before." She could feel Fiji shaking as she tried to burrow deeper under her hair and wrap her little wings around Jehane's neck. Reaching for the flikat, she caught sight of Timor and Roark in the doorway, swords drawn and looking for trouble. Inwardly she smiled, always happy to see her closest friend. But her face showed concern and slight disapproval as she spoke to the Elf. "Timor, you've not taught Fiji yet that a person's hair is not where she should be nesting?" Jehane shook her head in mock disbelief. "She's gone and frightened a year off Dora's life. I've no doubt that Dora's pretty red hair is quite an attraction, but really Timor!" She sighed dramatically as she finally coaxed Fiji from her neck, and cradled the flikat in her arms. She moved towards the frightened serving girl. "Here... you see, Dora? Only Fiji..." The flikat began purring when she caught sight of Dora, but Jehane prevented the small animal from jumping onto Dora's shoulder. Dora reached out a tentative hand and reassured herself that it was, indeed, Fiji. "I din mean ta take such a fright, Mistress Jehane," said the youngster tearfully. "I jes feel somethin comin in ma hair, is all. An'... an'... an' Fiji ain't never done that b'fer." "Of course. Tis a frightening thing, but you're both over that now, aren't you?" Dora's trembling smile assured Jehane that the girl would be fine. "Then back to work with you," she said, patting the girl's shoulder. She felt Timor's presence behind her and turned to face her friend. "I haven't embarrassed you too badly with my teasing, have I, dear brother?" Her eyes glittered with mischief, but her warm smile showed her genuine delight at seeing him. Shifting the purring flikat slightly, she linked her free arm with Timor's. "Come, I was just telling Roark about Gretmak... and I think he needs more assurance that we will be able to recover the Goddess Stone." One of Roark's eyebrows soared up as he absorbed Jehane's comments, and he gave Timor a peculiar look as he sheathed his sword. Timor felt his neck get warm. "Uh, nice to see you too, dear, uh, sister. It's been too long." He glanced around the semi-crowded common room of the inn, where the commotion caused by Fiji had made them the center of attention. "Ah think we better continue our discussion upstairs." He searched for Fenn among the patrons, and instead caught Roark's strange look. He swallowed, and forced a small smile. "It's not like that, honest," he said quietly to his friend. Roark still looked skeptical, but shrugged. "If you say so." Roark spotted Fenn coming out of the kitchen, and flagged her down. "Fenn, would you have a. . ." "A room? Of course. Follow me," she said. They followed her across the room and up the stairs. The second floor was dimly lit by an oil lamp suspended in the center of the wall, about fifteen feet away. "You all can take the far room. It's the biggest." "Thanks, Fenn," said Timor. He waited until Fenn was heading back down the stairs, then led the others to the room. He opened the door, and after gently disengaging his arm from Jehane's, waved them in, then took one last look down the empty hall before shutting the door. "Okay, Timor, I've had just about enough of this. . ." started Roark, but Timor waved at him to hush up, then looked over at Jehane. "You were always better at wards, m'dear. Could you please make us safe from prying ears and eyes," asked Timor, then looked back at Roark. "Once those are up, ah'll be happy to explain the whole deal, ma' friend." Jehane handed the now-calm Fiji to Timor. "Would you like me to set up Full Ritual Wards, or will the abbreviated wards be sufficient?" she asked, smiling wickedly. Timor blanched, knowing that Full Ritual Wards involved complete nudity. Jehane patted his hand. "Abbreviated wards it will be then, dear." She walked to the center of the room and stood still for a moment. Then, raising her arms above her head, she began singing a lilting melody. The words where incomprehensible to Roark, and even Timor could understand only one word in ten. After a couple of minutes, the song died away and Jehane dropped her arms to her side. She turned and winked at Timor. "All done!" she said cheerfully. **And if you'd stop being so darned embarrassed, dearheart, I would be able to stop teasing you,** she thought in the direction of the Elf. She knew he heard her, as he made a great show of turning his back to her and began speaking to Roark. It took a great deal of effort for Jehane to keep from laughing. Timor face flushed completely red as he motioned Roark to take a seat. "Thanks, Jehane." He turned and sat down, facing Roark. "Uhm, okay, Jehane's told you about the talisman and Gretmak, right?" Roark shifted in his chair a little. He had never seen Timor so flustered before. He glanced briefly at Jehane, a playful smile still on her lips. Timor always had good taste in women, and she was certainly worth getting flustered about. His gray eyes shifted back to Timor. "First, my friend, tell me about you and her. I've known you for several years now, and you've never mentioned her before." Roark didn't think Timor's face could get any redder, but it did. "It's a long story," said Timor. "We met shortly after ah, uh, decided that a mage's life wasn't for me." It was Timor who glanced over at Jehane, who was reclining on the cot in the room now, obviously enjoying Timor's discomfort. "We became good friends, but things just never worked out, and we went in different directions. We got together once and a while, and we became more friends than anything else. Then, two days ago, we met up again." "And she told you about her ailing mentor, and that the dragon stole the one thing that could cure him, and because you're the love-sick old boyfriend, we have to get it back," finished Roark. He shook his head. "What do you think this is? A fairy tale?" The elf glared at him. "Oops, sorry. I mean. . . a bedtime story?" amended Roark, cringing under Timor's gaze. Timor cleared his throat, and the red faded from his fair complexion. "Something like that. Ah know it sounds, ah, contrived, but Gretmak does have the talisman, and he is currently dormant, and Jehane's mentor does need it." "Okay." Roark waved his arms around. "You've gone to the effort of warding this room. What's so special about it that I have to go risk my skin to help your girlfriend get it back?" Timor smiled, his confidence beginning to return. "Well, there's a couple of reasons. First, the talisman. It's not just any artifact. It's the Goddess Stone." Roark gave Timor a blank look. "So." Timor sighed. "Dornar was an ancient priest of the Goddess Farintime. Legend has it that he existed before the Great Fall. He enchanted the stone to help the last wizard king, Merajer, but Merajer fell before he got the stone. It was lost or captured while being delivered." Roark yawned a little, and rested his head on one fist, his elbow resting on the small table in the room. "Anyway," continued Timor, "Dornar supposedly enchanted the stone with the power of the Goddess, the ability to manipulate mana without spells. With just a thought, the bearer's bidding would be done." Roark perked up a little, lifting his head off his fist. "Sounds impossible. Doesn't it take years to master the spells that shape the mana?" Timor nodded. "That's right. That's why the Goddess Stone is so important. If Gretmak figures out how to use it, he'll ravage the entire country." Roark still looked skeptical. "If it's that powerful, why didn't her master use it to protect himself.?" "He hasn't figured out how it works either, but he was getting close. In another few months, he would have." Timor shrugged. "So now, we have to recover it." "Okay. Great." Roark still sounded unconvinced. "What's the other reason?" Timor smiled. "The sword, Dracos." Roark straightened up. "Dracos?" he said reverently. "That worm has Dracos?" `Gotcha,' thought Timor to himself. He gave Jehane a sly wink. "Yes, ma friend. Ah was doing a little research, and discovered that the sword was wielded by Banok, who disappeared ninety years ago, during an attack on Gretmak, last time he went on a rampage. The sword was never recovered, and many have braved the dangers of the blighted lands in search of it." Roark's eyes were glinting, his thoughts on all the stories he had heard about Banok and the sword Dracos. He had dreams about finding the great sword, and carving a nick in history for himself. And with it, he might even feel up to going against the fiercest of beasts, even, perhaps Gretmak. Then reality snapped him back. To get it, he would have to go up against Gretmak first. But the dragon was dormant? Roark looked at the two of them. "Okay, so how do you know Gretmak's out of commission? No one has ever returned, alive, anyway, from his lair." Timor smiled. "That Jehane can tell you. Her sources of information are better than mine in that regard." Jehane gracefully rose from the cot and seemed to glide towards the chairs when the men sat. She chose a seat from which she could easily watch both Timor and Roark. Silently watching Timor for a few moments caused him once again to become flustered, although his color remained more or less normal. She sighed and shook her head. "Without boring you, or alarming you," she said to Roark, tilting her head to one side and smiling slightly, "with the details of _how_ we obtained the information, we discovered several months ago that Gretmak has a rather interesting ailment." She grinned widely. "It appears that our dragon becomes exceedingly intoxicated whenever he ingests bovine meat. And since his most common source of food is cows, he does tend to remain rather comatose. "As Timor said, my Master has nearly worked out the properties of the Goddess Stone. In his present condition, it is not likely that Gretmak will be able to use the Goddess Stone. But he _is_ a dragon, with unique abilities that even Mages do not completely understand. If he should be able to use the Stone, it would be possible that he could cure himself of this disease, and undoubtedly returning him to his usual foul humor. It is certainly that the Stone cannot be used by less than a Master Mage, and we are fortunate that the thief was only an apprentice." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "Time is of the essence here, Roark. Are you willing to help?" Roark looked at the two of them. "A dragon that gets drunk eating cows." He shook his head, then glanced at them again. Both seemed quite sincere about this crazy scheme. He sighed, already knowing what his answer was, even if it didn't mean the chance to recover Dracos. He could tell that they were determined to proceed, even if he didn't get involved, and there was no way that he was going to let his friend, and this pretty woman, (even if she was a witch) to do this crazy stunt by themselves. He looked at Timor, and his resigned expression gave Timor his answer. "Ah knew you would, ma friend." Timor jumped up and slapped Roark on the back. "Ah knew you wouldn't let me down. Trust me, it'll be okay." Roark levered himself up out of the chair. He sighed deeply. "Fine, I have to wrap up a few loose ends in town, and then we can depart. Say, noon, tomorrow?" He looked over at Jehane. "As for my price, well, we can discuss that if we live through this. Okay?" He managed a slight smile and held out his hand to her. Jehane shook his hand, noting the warmth and strength of his callused fingers. Her eyes were mysteriously mischievous as she met his gaze. "That is acceptable to me. I think you will find I am not ungenerous." She caught Timor's look of disgust at her flirting with Roark, and smiled inwardly. As she stepped closer to Roark, her shields were suddenly rocked by an unfamiliar presence. She stumbled against him as a stench of evil seemed to permeate the room. As a gray mist began forming in the middle of the room, she felt as though a thousand insects were crawling across her skin. She could see that Timor was only vaguely aware of what was happening, and Roark was merely surprised that she had stumbled and had instinctively reached out to steady her. As a form began to appear in the center of the mist, Jehane shuddered. Whatever it was, it was powerful enough to get past her shields. She pushed herself away from Roark, staring at the growing mist as she reached for the knives in her sleeves...