Lured By The Dragon-rider

The city of Hypoth was the very model of upheld law and respect for its decree and authorities. Its police force was well trained and patrolled regularly. Crime was rare, and in those rare instances, it is said that the ones responsible were always caught and disciplined accordingly. Its Lord Regula, the ruler, was healthy and strong, nowhere close to death of any kind. Its people were content, most of them law-abiding citizens. And yet, despite all of the peace and order in Hypoth, it was about to be dragged into war.

A high-ranking King's Official, Quorth by name, sat in the study of Lord Regula, reading a charred and worn map. It had been relayed by a messenger from a city in the same kingdom. Quorth himself was not from Hypoth, but his concerns were for the whole territory, not just the capitol. The King himself had personally sent him to Hypoth at the request of Regula. Whispers of war had recently been floating from city to city, and even more recently, proof of it had been given. The messenger had died from arrows to the back, mere yards away from Hypoth's city gate. All he'd carried was the map.

Peering at it closely, Quorth noted places that had been marked in crimson ink. Most were major cities; one of them was Hypoth. This incident of the murdered messenger only confirmed the authorities' worries; the kingdom of Neofistos was angry. Neofistos and nearly all other kingdoms had been at each other's throats for countless decades. War was bound to happen at some point, and it would seem that this point was now. Neofistios was sick of being at the end of everyone else's sword, and now its lords were doing something about it. Its types of occupants didn't help their position much; the only elvenkind who suffered themselves to live in such a kingdom were the Drow, an eternally feared race. Criminals and villains of all types found refuge there. The most malicious of beasts prowled its borders.

Quorth had been given specific orders by his king. In the stretch of peace that had graced the kingdoms for so long, the need for military officers had lessened. Most that had been soldiers before were now lords that had grown too comfortable in their retirements, and their senses had forgotten the feel of weapons and warfare. The kingdoms needed new heroes, and it was Quorth's task to collect them.

Quorth's peace of mind and concentration were suddenly broken, and he looked up towards the door. It sounded like an entire battle was taking place in the hallway! As he stood up, the door crashed open and several guards dragged in a struggling, filthy-looking person. She was yelling what seemed like every profane curse known to man. There were six guards total, but they seemed to be having trouble keeping their grips. Quorth spoke up before she could hurt the guards.

"Enough, release her!" At his command, the guards immediately let go of the wriggling woman and jumped away, temporarily winded. The woman glared at Quorth mutinously. Her clothes were filthy and so was she, the result of spending nights sleeping on the streets. Quorth began the speech he had prepared in his mind. "Milady, I'm not going to beat around the bush, so..."

"Damn right you're not going to beat around the bush! What's the big idea, yanking me off the street and bringing me here? " she demanded hotly, her arms crossed over her chest.

"At the risk of stating the obvious, Lilith Brithis, I might remind you that you are a thief wanted in countless cities and towns. The only reason you were caught is because you were careless, and we couldn't have hoped for a better time," he said calmly, as if it were everyday conversation. The woman snorted.

"Why, is there a discount on hangmen's nooses and chopping blocks today?" she said, pouring on the sarcasm. Quorth sighed quietly. This was going to be more work than he'd have liked.

"Miss Brithis, if you would please take a seat?" he asked politely, gesturing to a chair near her. He sat down as well. The woman stubbornly remained standing, looking down her nose at him contemptuously.

"And what's this all about, ey? A speech on moral standards, for me to think on when an axe chops me spine in tween? Thoughts on being a good citizen, that I'll never make use of anyhow?" She was obviously angry with Quorth, and with herself for getting caught. It was all Quorth could do to keep from rolling his eyes.

"Hardly, Miss. If you'd be calm and sit down, I'll tell you what I'm on about." To Quorth's delight, the woman-thief did sit down. Before he could continue though, she spoke up again.

"And I won't have you calling me Lilith Brithis, it sounds like a snuff-sniffing noble's name. I'm Rusty, not Lilith!" she said, once again crossing her arms. Quorth nodded in agreement, eager to get this interview over and done with.

"Yes, fine, I shall address you as Rusty. Now, I have a deal to make with you..."

"What kind of deal? I don't owe you or anybody any favors." She interjected again. This time Quorth actually did roll his eyes.

"In case you hadn't noticed, you're a thief, and punishable by law, but if you would just listen, you might actually like what I have to say. Agreed?" Rusty said nothing, and remained silent. Quorth nodded.

"Good. First off, I suppose that you know about the imminent...."

"The war with Neofistos. Aye, I know. I doubt we'll win it either, all the warriors around have gone way too soft." She said, examining her gritty fingernails, already disinterested.

"Which is exactly why I had you brought here," Quorth said, noticed that Rusty had averted her gaze to him, seemingly interested, "Of course, you must have heard about our army's generous wages, you liking money so much..." Quorth continued. Rusty immediately paid attention, staring Quorth in the face.

"Talk, I'm listening." She said eagerly. Quorth smiled. He'd hooked his first one.

Not much later, Quorth and Rusty were walking the streets of Hypoth. Rusty had been given new clothes, which she was still examining closely, right down to the hems.

"So... You find the best thief in the kingdom, put expensive clothes on her back, and tell her she's going to be a general in a war? Sounds like a decent program to me." She commented out loud, inspecting the crimson-embroidered hem of her new cloak. Quorth said nothing, but noticed that she was skirting around the dirt and mud in the road. Odd for a thief.

"What on earth are you doing, Miss?" She gave him a look that said it should be obvious.

"Do you think I want these fine boots getting a single speck of grime on them? If you think I'm going to treat these like clothes I'd normally wear, you're crazy! You've probably never felt this lucky!" she said dubiously. Again, Quorth said nothing, and resumed his steady stride down the road. Too immersed in her own good luck, Rusty said nothing as well. But, after a time, she grew curious.

"Ah... Mr. Quorth?"

"Yes?"

"Might I ask where we're going?"

"Mage school."

In a stone hallway, sitting on a bench with her arms crossed as usual, Rusty found herself waiting patiently like a child. She could hear Quorth speaking with the headmaster of the Mage school behind the door of the study. She was bored out of her mind.

"Huh. I thought I was supposed to be helping gather leaders of an armed force, not waiting in hallways..." she grumbled. Looking around and seeing many portraits lining the walls, she got up to inspect them more closely. She strolled sideways down the hall, glancing at each painting and reading the plaques beneath them, also voicing her own opinion. "Professor Seton; bald.... Professor Kariss; enormous nose.... Magician Rembert; probably a lecher...." Hearing yells from the headmaster's study, Rusty darted back to the door and tried peering through the keyhole. All she could see was the backside of a King's Official.

"Curse you Quorth, move your butt outta the way!" she mumbled. Getting nothing, she put her ear to the keyhole instead. This worked better, and she heard Quorth raving at the headmaster-mage;

"....no right to turn a student away just because of that! I hope you know that I'll be reporting this to the Mage's Council. I wouldn't count on keeping headship of this school, if I were you. Good day." Realizing a second too late that he was going to leave the study, Rusty fell face-forward from leaning on the door as it opened. She quickly scrambled back up and leaned against the wall outside the study, as if nothing had happened. Quorth merely grabbed the hood of her cloak and hauled her off down the hall. When he finally let her go, Rusty asked what happened.

"Rusty, be quiet," he replied, "For I wish to gloat in smug satisfaction right now." He said flatly, looking only ahead. Rusty was only happy to oblige. As they left the school by means of the tall front gates, Quorth handed a worn leather satchel to Rusty that he hadn't had before.

"I'm trusting you to keep this safe, Miss Rusty. It contains the location of the next person we're after." Completely ignoring him, Rusty opened it up and leafed through the sheaves of parchment it contained.

"Quorth, this... These are all notes taken in a magic-class! In Elvish, no less!" she pointed out, wondering what on earth they would need with such a thing. Quorth explained.

"Thirty years ago, those belonged to an elf attending this school. She was powerful, but the headmaster wouldn't let her advance."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because he has an old-fashioned mind-set, and because she was a woman. So she studied independently, and in secret. But the headmaster found out, and expelled her, confiscating all of her spell materials, including those notes she'd been taking. I'm certain they contain some clue as to where her home is. All the headmaster knew was that it was somewhere in the Leaver Mountains, but that tells us little. I hope you can read, because we're going to be reading every word of that," he warned her. Rusty frowned down at the papers in her hands.

"No, we're not." Quorth gave her a look. "No, seriously!" Rusty protested, handing him a scrap of paper, "Look for yourself." Quorth took it and stopped walking.

"Miss, we are ridiculously lucky that this elf liked to draw maps that were perfectly marked and labeled," he said, somewhat shocked. Rusty grinned.

"Come on, tell me I'm brilliant."

"Later, we have no time for that." Quorth said, once again resuming his stride down the street. Rusty jogged after him, to keep up with his long legs.

"No time? What do you mean, "no time"? We have plenty of time!" she said to the back of the quickly-moving King's Official.

"No, we don't, Miss Rusty. In fact, the nearer we get to finding everyone we need, the less time we have." He said, engrossed in studying the map. "Alright, here's what we'll do; I'll get supplies to last us... oh... about three weeks, and you can go back to the castle and get us our belongings and two horses. I'll meet you at the front gates in an hour."

"What the-? Wait, what's the big rush all of a sudden?" she called in confusion, but he was already gone among the crowd of the streets. Rusty angrily kicked at the dust on the ground, and resigned herself to trotting back to the castle to get those horses.

"Alright, so tell me this again... This elf woman has been living in the mountains for thirty years, by herself, and obviously hasn't bothered to communicate with anybody."

"Correct."

"So.... We have no idea if she's even alive?"

"Unfortunately, also correct."

"I hate you." Rusty muttered, her voice dripping with malice. Quorth sighed quietly and flicked the reins of his horse to keep it from straying away to chomp on a tuft of grass. They were riding on heavily laden horses, traveling on an uphill, dirt road. The incline was not too great, so was not too difficult. It had been one and a half weeks since their departure from Hypoth, and they had left the hilly lowlands behind days ago. Their only guide now was the hand-drawn map of their quarry. The trees pressed against the road tightly, offering no means of travel except for the road itself. It was like the woods were determined to keep outsiders out.

"Now," Quorth began, "Not to be overbearing, but I suggest that you let me do the talking, if we find her. Pardon my saying, but you're not the first person I'd choose as a diplomat." He said apologetically. Rusty shrugged.

"No offense taken. It's only true; my greatest skill besides theft is starting arguments," she admitted. Quorth was surprised at her frankness, but said nothing.

As they went on, the canopy of branches above grew thicker and thicker, until it gave the feeling that it was twilight, rather than the middle of the day with the sun overhead. A wind picked up, and the trees roared all around them. Rusty looked all around uneasily. She had been born and bred in the city, and the wilderness was unfamiliar to her. She didn't know what was danger and what wasn't. Quorth noticed.

"We're almost there, I think," he said, attempting to reassure Rusty.

"I sure as hell hope so..."she replied, "Well.... What's this woman's name anyway? I don't even know that much."

"Her name is Briltalath. Her surname was undisclosed, unfortunately, so further background-checks were impossible. Our knowledge of her is extremely limited, and I'll be using all we know to try and convince her to join our cause." Rusty gave him a sideways frown.

"You have to convince her? I don't even recall being given much of a choice. What gives?"

"Well, this woman isn't exactly wanted by law."

"Oh yeah," she chuckled, slightly embarrassed, "I forgot."

The road was starting to even out, no longer at an incline. The road wound and bent several times, never giving them a clear view of where they were heading. At last the winding road ended. The unfortunate thing was that it ended right in the middle of a high stone wall.

"Now what?" Rusty exclaimed in exasperation, clambering down from her horse. She approached the wall and tried pushing it, as futile as that plan was. She shrugged and turned back to Quorth. "It's a wall."

"I know that." He dismounted as well, also coming to inspect the wall. Peering from side to side, he saw that the trees were very close up against the wall, maybe only a foot of space in between. "You go that way, I'll go this, and we'll see if it ends at all," he said, tethering their horses to a nearby branch. Rusty sighed, rolled her eyes, and started shuffling down the narrow space between the trees and the wall. Quorth started the other way. Every few seconds a branch would hit him in the face, so he learned to look out for those. Likewise, he constantly heard shouts of, "Damn tree!" from the other direction.

Quorth eventually reached a point where the wall cornered at a ninety-degree angle. Anxiously peering around the corner, Quorth met the heavy disappointment of even more wall. He was about to continue, but then he heard Rusty yelling for him. He hurried back the way he'd came, and down Rusty's side of the wall. He stumbled into a wide space, and spotted Rusty grinning and pointing to a large wrought-iron gate, wide enough for a carriage to pass through.

"Rusty, you're wonderful," he exclaimed, putting a hand to his forehead in disbelief. Rusty waved away the compliment.

"Flatterer. Come on, let's go see!"

"Rusty, wait-! Oh for the love of...." Quorth muttered, following Rusty as she pushed open the free-swinging gate and ran in. They were in a roofless tunnel for about five meters, and then it opened into an enormous courtyard. Rusty had stopped running, and stood in the middle next to a giant tree surrounded by a ring of stone. On one side was a wide door that looked like it led to stables. Directly in front of Rusty and the tree was a doorway that jutted out of the main wall and had a small peaked roof, the same style as all the other sections of rooftop they could see. The entire structure was actually a walled-in manor.

Quorth and Rusty looked around in amazement. The courtyard was perfectly maintained, but there was no one around to compliment for it. Curious, Rusty stepped over the low ring of stones to get a closer look at the tree. There were curious designs etched in the bark. As she was about to touch it, there came the sound of someone loudly clearing her throat.

Rusty jumped, and in doing so, tripped backwards over the ring of stones. Quorth quickly helped her up, and they both looked at the tall-ish woman who had appeared in the roofed doorway. She was dressed plainly, had a bundle of green velvet tucked under her arm, and was staring at them with one eyebrow arched.

"Who in hell are you, and what are you doing here?" she asked unworriedly. Quorth stood up straight and jabbed his elbow at Rusty to get her to do the same.

"We came here seeking the audience of the Lady Briltalath. Is she at home?" he asked politely, but with some authority. The woman narrowed her eyes.

"My lady is not home, nor do I know when she'll be back. I trust you know the way out, seeing as how you barged in." With that, she turned to retreat back into the manor, her long brown hair swishing behind her. Quorth ran after her.

"No, wait, we have to speak with her!" he pleaded, grabbing her arm, accidentally making her drop the bundle of green velvet. She spun around and glared at him.

"My lady does not wish to speak to you, now or ever. Good day!" she said, turning away again. Rusty ran after her as well.

"Lady Briltalath, can't you just listen to what he has to say?" she asked. Quorth almost told her to shut up, but the woman beat him to it.

"I won't listen because I have chosen a life of seclusion," she said gravely, "Now, can you.... Please, just let me be?" Quorth looked at Rusty with a new wonder. How had she guessed? Rusty picked up the bundle of green velvet and handed it back to Briltalath.

"We can't, milady. What we have to say is too important." Quorth had never heard Rusty sound this serious. Briltalath looked flustered for a moment, but then sighed and took back the velvet.

"Come inside, will you? It's not safe out after dark." She headed down the dark corridor. Rusty readily followed her, but looked back when she didn't hear Quorth behind them.

"What on earth are you doing? She's invited us in! That's what you wanted, right?" She continued down the corridor, and Quorth hurried to catch up. He decided he'd ask how she knew later on.

"Let me repeat this, just so I'm understanding you two," the Lady Briltalath said, reclined in an armchair, "You, meaning the city of Hypoth, want me as a general for your army, in a war I'm not even very concerned about?" Quorth spread his hands and shrugged.

"I... well... I suppose you could put it that way." Frankly, he was at a loss for words. Rusty sat by calmly and watched him handle this. Briltalath stood up.

"I need a moment to think..."

"About aiding us?" Quorth asked hopefully. The elf-woman frowned.

"No, about how you two are going to get off this mountain range without being eaten or attacked," she said coldly. Quorth's face fell, and he stood up.

"But we've come all this way, the kingdom desperately needs your help!"

"The kingdom didn't help me three decades ago. I don't see why I should help now."

"But that was thirty years ago, things have changed! The new king has created bylaws that protect the right of the Elven to-!"

"-No! I don't want to hear it!" Briltalath suddenly cut him off, pointing in his face, "There may be a law, but can you assure me that there'll always be someone there to uphold it? Can you?" she demanded. Quorth felt that this was the right time to politely give up. He nodded his head, somewhat disappointed.

"I understand, we... We'll go now." He turned and headed for the door. "Come on Rusty..." Rusty stood up.

"I thought you said you were going to use all the resources you had!" she whispered angrily, "What happened to all that knack for persuasion?" Quorth shook his head.

"We're done."

"No, we're not." Before Quorth could stop her, Rusty marched up to Briltalath and looked her in the eye. "You might want to reconsider, you know." Briltalath blinked and backed up a step, uncomfortable that Rusty was that close.

"And why might I want to do that?"

"Because a captain in Neofistos's army is the dragon-riding Drow!" she blurted. Briltalath clapped a hand to her mouth, wide-eyed. Quorth yanked Rusty back.

"What are you doing?" he demanded angrily. Rusty glared at him.

"I, unlike someone else, am getting us a general with a purpose," she snapped. They would have argued back and forth some more, but were interrupted.

"I'm coming with you," Briltalath said, walking towards a door that led to a different room, "Give me a moment, and we'll leave." She closed the door behind her. Quorth stared in amazement at Rusty.

"What on earth was that about?" Rusty yanked her cloak out of his hands and straightened it out.

"I did what you said. You said we'd have to read the notes, and it just so happens that I can read," she said smugly, making a point of not looking at him, "Thing is, all you bothered to look at was the map. Some of those notes were journal entries. She wrote that..." Rusty didn't get a chance to say anything more, because Briltalath returned to the room. She was wearing the green velvet that she'd been holding before, which turned out to be an extra-long, high-collared tunic, cinched at the waist with a wide belt. She carried two large saddlebags in her arms.

"Right, then. Would you wait out in the courtyard? I'll be there momentarily." She put the bags down in her armchair and exited through yet another door. Rusty and Quorth wordlessly walked outside and sat on the ring of stones to wait. They looked around everywhere but at each other, out of anxiousness to get going. It was twilight by now, the only adequate light coming from the roofed doorway of the corridor. Through the glass windows of the house they could see lights of candles disappearing, being snuffed out. Before long all was dark, and Briltalath emerged from the corridor carrying a lantern and her packs. After closing the heavy oaken door behind her, she looked pointedly at Quorth and Rusty and headed for the stable door they had seen earlier. Rusty and Quorth still waited, sitting on the ring of stones. Briltalath soon emerged from the stable as well, still holding her lantern, but now leading an enormous horse by the reins. It was the type of animal that one usually saw doing farm labor or things of the sort, but this one had grown noble-looking under the care of an elf.

"I think you should get back to your steeds now, if you rode in. I'll be right behind you," she said calmly, holding out the lantern for them to take. Thinking it wise not to question the advice of an elf, especially if she was the only one living in the area, Quorth accepted the lantern and left with Rusty via the wrought-iron gate. They wordlessly shuffled back along the wall, vaguely and nervously aware of shuffling sounds that weren't being made by them.

When they re-discovered the road they had arrived on, they immediately untied their horses and mounted, anxious to get going immediately. Then Rusty thought of something.

"Wait... How's she getting to us?" No sooner had the question left her mouth, they heard a faint crashing in the direction of the entrance to the manor. Quorth held up the lantern, and light shed on a parting through the trees that hadn't been there before. Becoming clearer and clearer every moment was Briltalath, leading her giant horse. Joining them, she mounted, smiled briefly, and started off down the dark road. Rusty looked back at the path through the trees. It was gone.

"So tell me, Rusty." Quorth whispered sometime later. They were still traveling on the road, and Briltalath was making no attempt at conversation. "How did you know?"

"How did I know what? And why are we whispering?"

"Because elves have excellent hearing. How did you know it was her and not a servant? And you didn't finish talking about the notes you read."

"Ah.... Yes, that. Well, the first was a complete guess, I'm afraid," she whispered sheepishly, grinning in embarrassment, "but the other part, that's easy. She wrote on the journal pages about what had happened to her family."

"Her family?"

"They were all killed." Quorth was shocked into silence. It explained why the elf was living alone, anyway. Elves usually valued companionship, and recluses of their kind were unusual.

"Dare I ask how they were killed?" he whispered. Rusty sighed sadly, shaking her head.

"She's one person with a damn good reason to be fighting this war. Weeks ago, you briefed me about Neofistos's military, correct?"

"Correct. I told you all the information about their leaders and tactics that we already knew."

"Yeah, now try to remember what you said about one of their captains."

"The Drow dragon-pilot?"

"Yes. I don't think I need to tell you who killed her family."

Quorth looked ahead at the Lady Briltalath. All of the first-impression opinions of her that he'd made returned to his current thought. She was far more stoic than any elf he'd ever met. She was completely self-reliant, and would likely count on no one. Until he and Rusty had come along, she'd had no reason to make contact to the outside world of any kind. Now she was willingly going forth into a conflict that might result in her own demise, but revenge for her entire family in one fell swoop was all she needed. Rusty was right; this was one of the few who would have a good reason fighting this war.

The End