Episode 2: Already So Far From Home

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After the horses and their gear was firmly on the shore, they decided that they would spend the night here in this small village rather than travelling onward, despite the fact that it was not really that late. Most insistent of all had been Uther, who had finalized the decision by trudging off to the nearest alehouse to "quickly forget that damned silly raft!"

While the others followed after him, Abby lingered behind, eventually turning and walking up the shore of the lake. Although her body traced a loose pathway along the rocky lane, her eyes told anyone who watched that her mind was far away, dwelling in a place where her heart also lingered.

She glanced around and, seeing noone, pulled forth the small locket that she carried next to her bosom. Next to it was the heartstone, a cold rock weighing heavily on her of the obligations of the rest of her heart. The locket, however, was a reminder of love.

She plucked the tuft of hair carefully out of the locket. Delicate and dark brown hair, tied with a simple string. Aiden's hair. Focussing her will upon it, and bringing up a mental picture of his smiling face, she cast her thoughts toward him...

Aiden was in an oak-panelled room. Heavy curtains on the windows kept at bay what should have been strong sunlight, casting deep shadows around the room. He stood on the wine-coloured carpet, staring angrily across a dark, wooden desk at someone. Swinging her thought-pictures around, Abby made to see who it was Aiden confronted.

Sitting in an ancient, wooden wing-backed chair, in front of a ferocious crest of a hawk, was Aiden's father.

Abby had only met him a few times, always as an official guest. He always wore a stern, disapproving look on his face, his hair was darker than Aiden's but edged with silver from age, and his eyes were shining, dark and piercing. Most could not meet his gaze without flinching, although Aiden now fixed him with a steady stare of his own, refusing to give an inch.

Tension hung thickly in the air. For a moment, no words were spoken, although Abby had the distinct feeling that much had already been said, and harshly, on both side of the desk.

Finally, Aiden's father spoke in a low voice, never breaking the stare. His voice was steady and confident, almost matter-of-fact if not for the anger just below the surface. "You will not go," he said, a hint of finality in his voice.

Aiden's response was in kind: "I will go, father, and you cannot stop me!" His face was red with frustration, and he spoke in a stoccato rhythm, pausing after each word as if to reign in his anger.

All at once, his father leapt to his feet and smashed his white-knuckled fists upon the desk, sounding out a resounding, solid note that made Abby jump despite her distance.

"I forbid it! You have training to do, and you will be attending court with me so that you will learn the manner in which important decisions are made!" Aiden's father was shouting now. "You will not go gallavanting across the country on some fool's errand!"

Aiden had stepped back at his father's outburst, but seemed to have gathered his strength. "I am leaving at once, father, and do not expect to return for at least a fortnight. Goodbye, father!" With that last sentence hurled over his shoulder, Aiden strode out of his father's office and out the building. As her vision of him faded, Abby could make out the furious yelling of his father behind him, and the satisfied smile that crept across Aiden's sweating face.

As she regained her senses, her mind whirled. What was he doing? Could he be coming after me? she wondered.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted movement. Glancing over quickly, she spotted a small creature, darting clumsily behind a tree. It appeared to be a small fairy, and she caught its furtive peering around the side of the tree as it tried to continue its spying.

Abby rushed over to it, but as she reached where it hid, it vanished. Suspicious, she considered what it could have been: something working for her father? No, it was clearly magick, and her father rarely seemed to resort to magick... Was it a natural creature? No, for it would not have disappeared so completely from her sight... A summoned creature, then? Perhaps...

Some distance away, carefully concealed, Rikkard similarly considered that which he had seen through his small minion's eyes. The locket clearly contained the hair of a loved one, and since the protection that her House provided allowed no spells of far-seeing (or at least they had said it did), it could not be one of her family. That meant that it belonged to someone very close to her in other ways -- a beau of some kind, then.

Rikkard pondered the spell she had used, as well; he had recognized it, for he was acquainted with that kind of magick himself. So, she spied in on her boyfriend, perhaps? On the instruction of the nymph who had saved his life, he had pledged himself to follow on a quest a woman that he knew nothing about. Information such as this might help to explain her moody behaviour. Armed with it, he resolved to flush out her weaker moods and turn her into a stronger woman -- like those of his native Northern lands.

After all, he thought to himself pompously, if I have been assigned to her by a creature such as that which held my life in the balance, she must be destined to be a great leader. It is my responsibility -- nay, my duty! -- to ensure that this comes to pass!

Self-gratified, Rikkard stalked off in the direction of the inn where the rest had already gathered.

Nearby, shaking her head incredulously, the furred, brown squirrel-nymph wondered if she was going to need to step in before he tripped over his own self-importance....

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