Elfborn

Chapter 5: Nor Avilon

Jase grimaced as the caravan came around the corner to find an all too familiar castle peering down at them from its hilltop perch, the town at its feet wreathed in smoke from the hearth fires its inhabitants had lit to drive away the autumn chill.

"Nor Avilon," he husked, almost not wanting to believe it. Yet, just to the right of the town, on this side of the broad pass the road had cut through the ridge of hills that hid this place, there was the hill on which he had confronted Astor and his Mist man what seemed like an eternity ago. In reality, it had been only three weeks, three weeks filled with pain from the wound the Mist man had given him in the dream world; a wound he had carried into the real world upon waking up.

He sighed and looked up into the sky. At least they had been relatively lucky with the weather. Unlike Hybernia, surrounded on all sides by the sea, Noran had sporadic rainfall during the autumn before the snows came in mid to late October. Which, as the wind's chill attested, was only a few days away. In the meantime, they had gone several days without rain, giving the captives the chance to dry out and tend to the chills they had caught during the rains.

The Dark Companions too seemed somewhat relieved by the cessation of the rain. They became more relaxed and even friendly. With each other, at least. To the young captives, they became generous to the point of actually giving half-decent food to their prisoners. That in itself went a long way towards Jase and the others regaining their strength. That and the fact that Mordekai allowed them campfires to huddle around as they drew close to Nor Avilon. Max had supposed that it was because Mordekai wanted to put a better face on the battered Elfborn instead of the pale, gaunt ones they now wore. After all, it was Cassandra that had blurted out that they were not to be harmed before being brought to Nor Avilon and Lord Astor.

Regardless of the reason, they were all glad for the extra food and the fire, allowing Jase to heal and the others to regain their strength. And heal he had, with his normal unnatural speed. Instead of wondering about it, as he did before, Jase welcomed the healing gift, which made his injury easier to hide from the blackbacks with each new day.

A soft hiss brought Jase's eyes away from the pale, washed-out blue of the sky, equally pale and drained looking clouds scudding across it with the stiffening northern wind. He quickly found the source of it a moment later: Max.

"So that's Nor Avilon," Max subvocalized, squinting as he looked the blocky fortification over. "Somehow I expected something more impressive."

"I would think this Fire Lord wouldn't want to draw attention to himself with something more grand," Jase reasoned in return, also subvocalizing, their preferred method of communication.

"Especially if Astor has elves looking for him!"

Max nodded in agreement, settling back into place. Jase, after a moment of looking over at his friend, turned to gaze at the distant castle as well.

In the three weeks since they had disembarked in the small fishing village, the small group had learned even more about each other than they had in the short time they had been in the hold of the schooner. Talking with subvocalization too low for the guards to hear as they sat around their campfire, the company of Elfborn had gotten to know each other.

Jase, as Max discovered and had expected from what he had seen of the fellow that first day, was impetuous, cocky, and reckless. On the other hand, the brawny young man from Hesiva was also courageous and brave, selfless in lending aid to others, and unafraid to try anything new. It was that courage that, after a week's exile from the dream world, found Jase returning to the Shadowed Land to become the best dream walker out of all of them. Dream walker was the term they gave to those of their company that could easily move in and out of the dream world.