Ironwood

Travan

The party had just crossed onto the Great Highway east to Talyk, when the skies darkened, and turned to a steady, soaking rain. The resin-protected cloaks postponed their misery, but by the evening, Jacob was a soggy mess. The one blessing was that the storm dampened the need for conversation, as he had been in no mood to talk. The only member of the group who did not seem to be drenched was Francis. It was almost as if the rain parted, and ran from the air around him, leaving the former monk dry. Jacob was sure it was least considerate thing Francis had ever done.

In other circumstances, he would have enjoyed the ride despite the rain, and the chance to examine more of the ruins of Miraka, but the fate of Ironwood weighed too heavily on his mind. A part of him thought that if providence had somehow both delivered the Shield of St. Thomas to him, and arranged for the death of those who murdered for it, that maybe God favored him. Maybe He had a purpose for Jacob, and would help him save his home town. Then again, if he was honest about it, Jacob had no leverage at all over Shakath. Even if Travan had a Sorcerer of its own, they would have nothing to offer Shakath, and no means to stop him, even if they cared to. Jacob himself didn't have the power, and Francis had made clear that St. Thomas would not provide it.

Yet, a part of him refused to accept that. Fragments of his conversation with the Travanian kept echoing in his head: Step up and God has your back. There may be a price to pay. It was unlikely Jacob could save Ironwood, but he had to try. Yet, everywhere he had succeeded, it had been according to God's plan, and Francis had as much as said that God was done with him. The thoughts repeated themselves in his head, over and over. Could he step up again? Or had God abandoned him? Was it time to give up?

By dinnertime, the rain dispersed into a cool, dense fog. The warriors all stripped their armor, laying it before the blazing fire in the hopes of minimizing the rust they would later have to polish out. Some feared the kindling would be too wet to burn, but the Sorcerer had a fire burning in no time. Laranna and Francis provided an excellent roast, with biscuits and some fruits from the Sarronen market. Jacob helped them where he could, the distraction of the task lightening his mood somewhat. Both had been glad to see him pitching in. Laranna had carried the conversation, keeping it both light and genuine, to his gratitude. She did not comment on his mood, but when the food was ready, only handed him the first bowl and cup, and shooed him off to eat.

Athena, too, had been almost uncharacteristically helpful, throwing herself into setting up of the tents, fetching of firewood, and helping Daniel with the care of their horses. Any time Ceann sidled up to help, she thanked him, and shuffled off to the next task. Eventually, he got the hint. But once they were all eating, there was a silence to fill, one only punctuated by the call of owls and the crackling of the fire.

Daniel was the one, finally, to cut through heavy air among them. Lifting his cup, he called out, "To Timothy! And to Father Gerrold! May their souls, wherever they are, finally find rest."

"Hear! Hear!" the others responded, lifting their own cups.

Laranna asked carefully, "These were your murdered friends?" At Daniel's answering nod, she asked, "What were they like?"

Athena was the first to speak, "Timothy was a good guy: young and loud, but he would do anything for you. He just joined Ironwood's Town Guard, and he was so proud, you'd think he was saving the world. He probably thought he was. He was big, and handsome for a big guy. I watched him in the practice yard, and he wasn't bad for someone so young. He lost at least every other match, and still came into every one grinning like he was invincible. He liked his trash talk too, before a fight. Losing was never his fault, if you asked him, but he never sounded bitter about it, either. He was always one fight away from a win. When he did win, he knew when not to rub it in. He was a good man. I'll miss him."