Guardian of the Grave - Part II

[liregran]

Title:  Guardian of the Grave (Part II)
Author: liregran 
Artist: dragon_gypsy 
Mixer: dragon_gypsy 
Type: Gen
Word Count: 16,122
Rating: PG to PG-13 (maybe)
Warnings: Violence at the end as well as a death. There is also mention of a character's previous death.

Summary:
Rand, a trained knight and former member of a Warrior Company, is accompanying Tala, a girl whose spirit is now embodied in a white wolf after the Spirits of her people returned her from the dead, on her journey back home. Along their way, they encounter a band of colorful and nomadic people known in Rand's homeland as the Vagar. The Vagar are having a wedding to bring good luck to them after they discovered cracked gravestones in their local burial ground - a sure sign that a Draemort, a very evil presence, has moved in and is disturbing the sleep of their dead.

It is up to Rand and Tala to find a way to rid the Vagar of their Draemort.

Notes: The story is still in the process of being beta'ed. It will likely undergo further edits and posts will be updated as needed.

Link to story master post:  Part I || Part II || Part III
Link to art master post: Cards
Link to mix post: Beyond my Memories

( Edited: Because I'm an idiot and forgot to add the art and mix links. :( )

“Well, that’s the last of what we can do for now.”

He turned a full circle, surveying the camp that they’d set up to see if there was anything that he’d missed. He hadn’t started a fire yet, but he had prepared a pit and Tala had gathered all of the available wood she’d been able to find into a neat pile next to it. He frowned at the small pile and fought against the sigh that wanted to escape. There’s enough for an evening cooking fire, but not enough to keep the coals going through the night to have a morning pot of sacerhad tea. Experience had already taught him that if he saved some of the wood to try to make a fire in the morning to have his beloved cup of sacerhad tea then, there would be too much dew covering the ground and wood for a flame to easily catch.

The first - and last - time he’d tried to do that, he’d wound up wasting almost all of the morning trying to get enough of a fire going to brew the dark and bitter drink. He’d finally managed, because after wasting that much time in the attempt to get there, there didn’t seem much more to lose by seeing it through. He wasn’t going to do that again, however, remembering the way that Tala had paced when they’d made camp the next night. Not to mention the sorrowful sound of her howl that she’d called out after running to the top of a hill - her bright pelt almost seeming to glow in the light of the full moon, silhouetted as she had been against the dark night.

No, he wasn't going to do that to her again.

“Stay here, I’m going to go introduce myself to the Vagar and see if they have any news of the area.”

The white she-wolf looked as though she might have begun a nod, but stopped in the middle of the movement, her attention apparently and abruptly caught by something else - her head up, gaze focused beyond him and ears that began upright but just as suddenly flattened themselves to her skull, causing him to frown in unvoiced response.

“I don’t think you’ll need to do that. There are four of them approaching.”

“What?”

He looked away, his own gaze following the direction that hers had pointed but couldn’t see anything. When he looked back, the white wolf had disappeared as well. How does she do that? To his mind there was no way that anything that large and that white should be able to simply vanish into hiding that quickly and easily, yet she seemed to almost be able to do it constantly and completely.

A whiny from the pack horse, a snort from Rav as the young stallion pawed the ground and a rustling in the grass behind him announced the presence of the men Tala had warned him of before the one leading them ever spoke. And while his words were more menacing than the tone of his voice, neither was particularly pleasant by any stretch of the imagination.

“You seem very confident, Stranger, to be leaving horses unguarded on the plain - especially ones so fine as those.”

The words took him by surprise for a moment before he realized that the man must have overheard him talking to Tala about leaving the camp. They must have thought I was talking to the horses... Rand smiled slightly at the thought as he slowly turned to face the men. While their leader was smiling in false good humor, the three younger men behind him wore frowns that betrayed the true feelings of the group. He chuckled abruptly, the sound dry and humorless even to his ears, as he shrugged and leaned back slightly, settling more of his weight on his heels.

“If anyone were foolish enough to make a try for them, I’d wish them luck and almost feel sorry for their foolishness.” He smiled more broadly, although he knew the expression would hardly be comforting to those before him. A brief flash of white in the grass to the other side of the depression where they’d made camp, partway between the men and the horses caused him to smile more.

“And who said I was leaving them unguarded?”

His smile twisted slightly at the expressions on the faces of the small group of Vagar men facing him as the large white form of Tala stepped out of where she’d been concealed off to the side, moving to stand between the Vagar men and the horses. He risked a sideways glance at her and almost spoiled the menacing effect they’d achieved by taking an involuntary step back and away from her before he could stop himself at the sight of her - her head down, lips pulled back, snarls curling from her throat and the fur of her hackles fully raised.

“Guardian...”

His frown slipped slightly more as he turned back towards the Vagar at the whispered exclamation formed by the other man’s voice. The man that had spoken, the one nearest the snarling and threatening white she-wolf had stepped back, his rounded eyes staring at her while his hand had risen to grasp something that hung around his neck but beneath his shirt.

“Why do I get the feeling that there was more than just a hint of a prayer in that word? But is it a prayer to me or one for deliverance from me?”

I have no idea...

While he couldn’t answer her in that same silent way that she could speak to him, he could only hope that she would pick up on the thought anyway.

Then the leader laughed long and deep before turning away from where his gaze had still be focused on Tala’s pale form and motioning for them to follow. “Good. Very good. Come! Come with us tonight and join us in the celebrations. The more to celebrate and cheer the marriage, drawing the attention of the Gods to the union and causing Them to smile down upon the couple, the longer the marriage will last and the better it be.” The man paused as he began walking away, and turned back towards them. “Come. Bring the wolf and your horses if you wish, although I assure you no one will steal them.” He smiled broadly, revealing a gap in his teeth where one had either fallen out or been broken out long ago.

“I give you the word of the only ones that would possibly try the thievery for more than a day’s hard ride in any direction.” He smiled again, beckoning them to follow, his fellows already moving back towards their camp. “Come...”

Rand looked over at Tala, silently asking her opinion, his dark eyebrows flattened in a frown. The white she-wolf kept her attention on the backs of the men walking away from them.

“I don’t know if we can trust them or not, or how far we should trust them if we can. If they try for the horses, Rav will take the hand off of at least one and we would certainly hear the screams when that happened... and if they somehow do manage to take them, I would be able to find them again. I leave the final decision up to you.”

He could only frown more deeply at the white wolf that he would almost swear was grinning at him as she turned to look at him, waiting for his decision. “You are so much help.” He almost growled the words out beneath his breath as he sighed and began following them back to their camp. The voice of her spirit followed him, a light chuckle tingeing her words as she fell in beside him.

“I do try.”



Once again, the sounds of the celebration reached them before they saw the camp where it lay on the other side of a slight hill from the one that Tala had chosen for their own. He blinked, stopping abruptly in startled surprise at the sight spread out before them.

There were many bright and colorful wagons seemingly scattered about to one side of the stream that ran through the camp, although he recognized more of an order to the ones here than he had in the Vagar camps he’d had occasion to visit in his homelands. Their herd of oxen and a few horses milled about on the lush grassy banks on the other side of the stream. Tall posts had been raised in a large, roughly shaped square in an open area among the wagons, a covering of loosely woven and brightly colored ribbons offering nonexistent shade over the area beneath. More ribbons dangled and danced with the slightest breath of wind from every pole and post, every wagon and even from the horns of some of the oxen and manes and tails of some of the horses.

“Oh, Spirits.”

He looked down at the white she-wolf that had stopped at his side at the awed whisper that her spirit had spoken into his mind and was happy to see that she looked as poleaxed as he felt. Then she did something he’d never heard her do before - she giggled. She actually giggled. He suddenly had to wonder how old she truly was or had been before her spirit got trapped inside the body of the wolf, because that giggle had sounded very young. Far younger than he’d been expecting. Although, to be just as honest, he had also never actually asked her.

The moment passed, though, as the wolf at his side shook her white head and resumed loping down the gentle slope of the hill after the men that had lead them from their camp. He watched her as she went for a moment, before following himself. The leader of the group of men were waiting for them a little distance away from the base of the hill, before they reached any of the wagons proper.

“Welcome to our home!” The man smiled again, sun browned and weather worn skin creasing more deeply with the movement although he couldn’t shake the impression that a shadow haunted and stalked the man’s smile that he was trying to hide. “You caught us at a good time, Stranger. Another week and we would have moved on, but then weddings always bring good fortune...”

There was something in the Vagar man’s choice of words or perhaps just in the tone of his voice that faded out to a whisper at the end that caused the skin between Rand’s shoulders to begin to itch. “Have you had... ‘bad fortune,’ recently, then?” The muscles in his hand twitched, wanting to reach down and settle reassuringly around the solid weight of the hilt of the sword at his side. He didn’t though, even though he knew from past experience that it would have caused that damned itch to fade - the lingering legacy of a trusted brother and friend’s betrayal so many long years ago. Damn it... I thought I’d gotten more over that.

He wrenched his attention back to the here and now, back to the man standing in front of them - looking uncertain at Rand’s question. Then the Vagar got that look of not quite true cheerfulness back on his face and failed to answer the question at all.

“You really need to meet our card reader and have her read your fortune. I have never seen her read the cards incorrectly. She is wonderful. Come, you must meet her! Come, come!”

...And before Rand could voice a protest, their guide was off again - the three others that had been with him when they entered their camp having long since dispersed, returning to whatever activities they’d previously been engaged in, presumably. With a scowl and barely restrained snarl, he moved after their guide, Tala at his side. It was not long before he noticed that the other Vagar would stop whatever it was they were doing, or whatever they had been saying, and stare after him...

Or, more accurately he realized, at the white wolf at his side.

The same white wolf that was apparently getting more and more uncomfortable as she undoubtedly noticed the attention as well, a low and nearly silent growl beginning to seep from her throat the further they passed into the Vagar camp. He reached out his hand, bending and stooping slightly to ruffle the short, soft, dense fur of the top of her head between the velvety soft ears that she’d laid back against her skull as they walked - trying to reassure her, although he wasn’t all that certain himself of what was going on...

Or why.

“Here we are.”

He blinked dumbly, still frowning slightly with the fingertips of his hand resting against the base of Tala’s skull, at the wagon before them. Compared to many of the others, this one seemed almost plain. Most of the bright and varied paints that had once surely covered it had been worn off and never replaced. A table had been set in front of it, draped in cloths that had clearly seen better days as well - although the topmost cloth, one that looked to have been a fine, rich and deep blue velvet once upon a trade fair, though worn and faded in places, looked to have been otherwise well looked after and had a matching pillow on the simple wooden chair that had been placed behind the table.

Movement caught his attention away from the table and his gaze followed their guide as he climbed the few steps up to the wagon’s door and rapped the back of his knuckles gently upon the door before turning to retreat back down the steps, not bothering to wait to see if anyone answered.

As he did so, Rand’s frown deepened at the sight of his hand still grasped about something at his neck, but at some point since their first meeting, the man had pulled the, the... whatever it was free and now his fingers were playing with it absently. He couldn’t get a plain view of the shape, but flashes of white-pale stone made him think he already knew. A quick glance around at those that had gathered curiously around them but still kept their distance showed similar movements, similar actions, similar flashes of small white stone figures bound around necks on simple leather thongs. With a bit of a start he realized that everyone had a carved white stone pendant of a wolf on them somewhere...

Everyone.

Oh Dead Lands. He didn’t even want to begin to consider the implications of that.

He felt Tala’s muscles go rigid beneath the gentle weight of his fingertips pressed into her fur and against her head and neck as she must have realized it too. As if to add to their feeling of unease all of the music that had been so loudly playing even long before their arrival had stopped while he hadn’t been paying attention to it.

It was into this world of uncertain and expectant silence that there was an unnaturally loud crack as the wooden door of the card reader’s wagon popped free, having apparently stuck in the jamb. The woman that emerged, and he only recognized her as such from the many skirts she wore, had a face deeply etched by time, the elements, and the tragedies that accompany all lives. For all that she appeared ancient, there was no stoop to her posture, no hunch to her shoulders as he’d seen in so many. She did move with what seemed deliberate slowness as she descended the few steps down to the ground, one hand on the single rail that edged the steps, a deck of cards clasped surely in the other - although whether that was from a consideration for a chancy balance and old bones or to add to her air of mystery and aloofness, he couldn’t say.

His frown lightened enough to where he almost smiled, almost, as their guide stepped back, giving the old woman and mystic lots of room to pass although she did not deign to even cast a glance in his direction or acknowledge his presence in any way. Indeed, the old woman did not say anything or behave as though she’d paid any of those that had gathered the least bit of attention or thought. She did wince, however, as she slid onto the cushion on her chair - the protest of old joints and bones - and began shuffling her deck of cards with a slightly disturbing expertness. Slanting sunlight glinting and gleaming off of the rings that weighted her fingers, she placed the cards face down in the center of the table, square in the center of the worn area she looked up sharply at him, the first instant she seemed to take notice that there were anyone else present...

Let alone the fact that there was anyone else living in the world beyond her wagon.

“Separate the deck. Three piles. Here, here and here.”

Her voice rasped slightly, roughened by time, but there was strength and the whisper of power laced through the tone of her voice as well. No emotion showing on her face beyond perhaps that of boredom, she tapped one bony finger to indicate three places to his side of the table and then sat, waiting and motionless save perhaps for her eyes - for he had the feeling that if he moved, her gaze would follow. Resisting the itch between his shoulders that demanded he draw his blade he stepped away from Tala’s side, glancing down in time to see her head lowering, lupine lips curling upwards intermittently in silent snarls of uneasiness. The knowledge of that did nothing to reassure him as he did as the old card reader demanded.

As soon as he had finished, before he’d even had a chance to step back, her hand had snatched out like some twisted claw, her gaze only for the cards once again as his existence was discounted along with everyone else’s. She gathered the three piles back into one, the third pile first then the first followed at last by the second in quick succession, the speed of her movements belying the apparent frailty of her form. Fingers that appeared no more than skin tautly stretched over tendon and bone moved with certain and economical movements, laying nine cards face down, filling the worn area of the velvet draped over the table with three rows of three.

As though remembering his presence once again, she looked up startlingly clear eyes focusing on his own as her hand moved again - pointing to each row of cards in turn, beginning with those nearest her. “What has been. What is and will shortly be. And what the distance holds.” Keeping her attention focused on him, she reached out and turned over the first row before looking down at what the cards revealed, the tip of her hooked finger hovering over each card as she explained.

“Hn... The girl you left behind has grown into a beautiful and strong woman. She has assisted you twice, when she offers her help the third time you would be wise not to refuse. Hmm...”

Weathered and wizened fingers turned another card, placing it on the cloth covered table before her with a clear and sharp fwp sound.

“You have also suffered great loss and betrayal in your life...”
Fwp...
“But never by her hand.”
Fwp...
“Your home in ruins and your lands gone wild...”
Fwp,
Fwp...
She leaned back in her chair, only one card still face down amongst those spread out on the rich deep blue of the aged velvet, and looked up at him before she spoke, her voice final and certain. “You will see order restored and the traitor made to face his truth before your end.”

“Yes, yes, yes, but what about the Draemort? Is he the one to face it?”

The old fortune teller glared at their guide, apparently the head man of the camp, from the corner of her eye. Slowly moving her head until she glared at him directly, he began to fidget and squirm beneath the sharp reprimand of her gaze. Narrowing her gaze to slits, and without ever looking away from his face, her long bony, spindly and knobby fingers reached out, turning over the next card in the pattern, the last one left unturned, with that same fwp sound...

One with a white wolf battling a dark and sinister shape above a grave with a cracked headstone under the light of a full moon and a mist shrouded graveyard.

“He walks with a Guardian of the Grave. Together they can defeat the evil that plagues the sleep of our dead.”

‘Guardian of the Grave’? What in Warrior’s name is that supposed to mean?

His thoughts were interrupted and his attention pulled from where he’d been frowning at the last card as he felt the white she wolf at his side abruptly move, almost hesitantly stepping away from him and towards the table - whether drawn by simple curiosity or some power he wasn’t aware of. The fortune teller, whose eyes still hadn’t left their guides, looked back as Tala rose on her hind legs, placing her front paws on the edge of the table with surprising delicacy to better look at the cards herself. Particularly, he imagined, that last one.

The woman’s stern expression softened as she looked at the white wolf, and seemed to peer into Tala’s eerily human green-gold eyes rather than the usual gold of a wolf’s eyes - or their rarer blue eyes.

“You will find your way home and you will return to the one you need and that needs you.”

The old fortune teller’s voice was so quiet, he doubted for a moment if she’d truly spoken or if he’d just imagined hearing her words. A glance around suggested that no one else had heard them but from what he could see of Tala, she was looking as though she had heard the old card reader as well...

Then he saw Tala’s head dip until it looked like she was staring at that last card. The old white haired woman watched her a moment then picked up the card, holding it out to the wolf who looked at it for a moment, then back into the woman’s eyes before gently taking the card between her lips and teeth. There was a pause of a moment longer before Tala removed her front paws from the table’s top and walked back towards him. During that pause, he saw the teller’s eyes widen in surprise - just a fraction and only for a brief instant - but knew by that sign that Tala had spoken to her.

After all, he felt as though he’d worn that look on his face often enough when he and Tala had first met and he’d learned that she was far more than the ordinary white furred she-wolf that she appeared to be.

“You.”

He his attention snapped back to the old card reader at her single, sharp word, to find her gathering up the rest of the cards and placing them into a pouch of rich velvet, the same dark blue as the piece that draped her table. “Take these. I give them to you freely and may they serve you well when the time comes.” The old woman’s stern lips quirked to one side, an amused glint gleaming in her eyes.

“Somehow I do not think you will be missing the card I gave to your friend.”

He stepped forward again, fresh confusion knitting his brow as he reached out to take the cards, knowing full well that his movements were stiff and awkward like some Follower of the Innocent’s artful if mechanical invention. He couldn’t help his blue green gaze from dropping to where Tala still stood just before the woman’s table - staring at some point beyond the curtained drape of the cloth covered table. “Tala?”

The ice white she-wolf looked up at him before looking back at the fortune teller and then looked around at the people still gathered - and still staring at her. He saw what looked like a shiver pass along her skin, causing the ends of her fur to tremble but he doubted that anyone else would have been watching her that closely.

Because for all that they were staring at her so damned intently, he didn’t think any of them were really seeing her, except, perhaps, in the case of the card reader.

“If you’re going to go ahead and stay here to try to find out more about what this ‘evil’ is that disturbs their dead and see if we really can help them, I think I’m going to go ahead and go back to camp... check on the horses, make certain everything is as it should be.” He saw her take another look around and then that same tremble of her fur that betrayed another shiver before turning her nose towards the direction of their camp and walking away, her card gently, almost delicately, held between her teeth.

“If they’ll even let me out.”

He turned, watching as she left, the Vagar that had gathered around them and made her so uneasy with their stares parting before her like a bow wave ahead of a ship.

When she had gone, the crowd of Vagar coming back together to seal the opening behind her and turn their eyes towards him now with expressions that varied from hope and happiness to doubt and scorn. He scowled back at them, even the ones with wonderment in their eyes, for how uneasy they’d made Tala.

He hadn’t known her long, as such things went, but he’d known her long enough - a handful of months rather than a span of years. When he’d been poisoned by one of the ‘Spirit of Creation’s Creatures,’ as she called them, early in their journey, there had been no real reason for her to risk being kicked into the afterlife to lead Rav by the reigns, and thus the pack horse by his lead rope as well, to take shelter from a raging storm in an ancient, abandoned and partially subterranean meeting place or possibly a temple, but there had been no evidence to suggest that it had ever been used as a burial chamber of some sort.

A fact she’d been quick to share once he’d regained his senses enough to wonder about it at the time.

Almost wishing he could do the same he turned back to the Vagar that had led them here since he was apparently the head man of this Vagar camp. “If, if, I do this, I will need to know more about what the Dead Lands is going on!” He closed his eyes and brought time and work roughened fingertips to press and rub at the bridge of his nose as he worked on reigning in his frustration with the entire situation. When he looked back over at the scowling Vagar man, he all but snarled his words when he saw the sullen and rebellious look on the other man’s face.

“You can start with telling me just what this ‘Draemort,’ or whatever you called it, is, exactly.”

For a moment it looked as though the Vagar man was going to refuse to answer, whether for reasons of personal dislike of him or fear of bringing the attention of this thing that they feared so much down upon them. In the end, though, he answered - albeit grudgingly.

“A Draemort is one of the restless dead, a ravenous ghost. They fear nothing besides the Guardians of the Grave and it is only a Guardian that can stop and put an end to a Draemort once it has risen.”

So he remained in the Vagar camp, asking anyone that would speak to him for any information about the Draemort, long after Tala went back to their own camp, almost as uncomfortable with all of the attention as she had been and half worried that they might prevent his departure...

Although in the end none did.



She lifted her head, furred eyebrows lifting at the frustrated sounds and heavy tread of Rand as he made his way back into their camp amidst the failing twilight. She remained silent as he came into view, snatching his fire starting set out of his packs and crouching before the pit he’d dug out earlier for the fire and where she’d piled some of the wood she’d gathered earlier - letting him wear out his frustration and anger by doing something, knowing nothing she said at this point would help.

“This one says that it looks like a cold and pale malevolent mist that sucks the life out of anyone who dares enter it, while that one says that it’s more of a dark, cold and hungry mist. Yet another claims that it’s actually a rotten and shambling corpse.” She smiled softly as he snarled in his frustration as he sank down to sit on the log set before the fire and stared sullenly into the flickering and dancing depths of the flames. “About the only thing that any of them seem to agree on is that it is called a Draemort and that it is very evil and extraordinarily dangerous. That and the only thing that can supposedly frighten it or kill it is a ‘Guardian of the Grave.’

"And the only qualification for being a ‘Guardian’, as far as I can tell, is being a wolf with white fur.”

She rose from where she’d been laying on a folded blanket, giving her muscles a violent shake to loosen them up before she padded over and sat down next to where he was sitting, the warmth from his leg seeping into her side as she rested slightly against him. “Have any of them been to the graveyard to even know that something is there? If they have, maybe they could tell you more of what you need to know. Personally, I would think that any of their information would be better than the stories of everyone else.”

“There is, but because he’s been ‘contaminated’ by the Draemort’s evil presence, the man is in isolation from the entire camp and no one is allowed to speak to him, not his wife or daughter or even his newly married sister, until a sufficient time has passed that his taint has faded enough where it’s safe for him to reenter their society.”

She was still and silent for a moment, dreading to voice the question that was restless in her mind after the overwhelming attention she’d been met with at the Vagar camp earlier. “What if a ‘Guardian of the Grave’ went with you? Whatever this thing is, it’s supposed to be afraid of white wolves, isn’t it? Would it still try to attack you or attach itself to you if I was there with you? Between you and it?”

“To be honest, I have no idea. I never thought about it that way.” He sighed and she felt his weight shift from where her side still rested against his leg, but she could tell from the sigh that he wasn’t going to be going anywhere. Instead she felt his long, strong and callused fingers wind their way into the fur at her neck, his short and somewhat uneven fingernails scraping pleasantly against her skin. “I’ll ask them in the morning since it’s too late to do anything else productive tonight.” He sighed and when she looked up, found that he was looking down at her.

“Tala, are you sure you’d want to do that after what happened earlier?” Then the lines of his face softened as his look of concern shifted and faded into another of those curious smiles that she was learning to appreciate so well for he smiled them so rarely.

“And, for that matter, what did you say to her, to the old fortune teller, back right before you left to come back to camp?”

She reflexively began to smile back at him, returning his expression in kind - but then she remembered his first question and the expression was stopped before it even truly had a chance to begin, only to be replaced with a deep sigh.

“To be honest, I don’t want to do it, and if there’s another way I’d like to take it...but if It is the only way...what I want or don’t want doesn’t matter much compared to finding out what it is we’re going to be up against.” She fell silent and looked away from him in favor of staring into the flames herself as he scratched her neck.

When she spoke again, her voice was faint, almost silent, but she knew he’d still hear her. “And I told her, ‘Thank you.’”

They sat there in companionable silence with only the sounds of the horses moving occasionally and night birds calling out to each other in the distance to accompany the soft hiss and crackle of the fire before them, then -

“And what of you? Did you warn them about the Creatures formed and twisted by the Spirit of Creation that now walk the wild lands?”

“Aye. I told them about them. Voiced my concerns and described some of the ones we’ve encountered on our journey, but whether or not they listened, I don’t know.” The fire crackled and danced before them before he continued. “Why did your spirits send you back, Tala?”

The white wolf shrugged, her shoulders rolling beneath his touch in an easy motion that drove his fingers into the fur of her neck, almost returning them to where they had just been for one too brief moment before she chose to answer, her eyes still focused on the flickering depths of the flames even as he finished pulling away.

“Why do the Spirits ever send anyone back? I hadn’t finished with what I was supposed to do.”



“NO! As I told you yesterday when you asked, you may not speak with Behrooz. It is forbidden. He is prikasa until his time of isolation has passed. None may speak with him. None. Understand? None. Not you. Not his wife. Not his young daughter. Not even his sister, Jaleh, who it was that was wed yesterday. None. I told you the same yesterday when you asked. Either your ears are dead or the area between them is.

“No one will be able to speak to him until the next moon passes without further incident surrounding him. Anyone that breaks the ban will also have to undergo isolation. If a person did such a thing and then they attempted to break their isolation and leave, then we would have to assume that the evil had possessed them, and we would have to seek to destroy it - and them.”

She did her best to not allow even the barest hint of a chuckle escape her even though she desperately wanted to. However, she could hear Rand’s teeth grinding together even from where she lay practically at his feet and knew that to give into that desire to laugh outright would only make this situation infinitely worse. If only it weren’t so serious, though...

Her ears perked as the leather bracers that Rand wore upon his forearms creaked slightly under sudden strain when he flexed his fists before releasing a breath he had obviously been holding in, in an attempt to remain at least outwardly calm. She couldn’t help grinning to herself, but hid the expression by quickly returning her chin demurely to her forepaws. Not that she really needed to have worried, neither man was paying much attention to her at the moment.

“The white wolf is a guardian against those same evil forces, correct?”

She could hear the forced and false calm in the clear and overly enunciated tones in Rand’s voice and looked up sharply, her gaze going immediately towards the Vagar leader that Rand had searched out as soon as they came into their camp that morning - waiting to see if he took any offense at the tone, or even noticed it for that matter. Her head tilted to one side in mild curiosity as she watched him, the Vagar’s brow knitted with confusion, his eyes narrowing in not so mild suspicion.

“Yes, but I fail to see...”

“Then what if I did not get too close to him and the wolf stayed between us? Since she is a Guardian of the Grave, would whatever evil that he drew to himself dare to challenge her presence to attach itself to me and follow me back to your camp?”

She sneezed to cover a chuckle, rubbing one paw over her nose and along her muzzle in an attempt to hide her expression as Rand spoke over whatever the Vagar man might have said, her traveling companion’s voice disturbingly cheerful as he did so. Dust rose in a small plume before the tip of her muzzle as she blew a sharp breath out of her nose after she felt a tap from Rand’s boot against the near side of her haunches. She risked a glance up towards him, but he kept his attention focused on the head man before them. The muscles along his jaw were straining, though, and she knew by that how close he was to spoiling their chance to speak with the one member of the Vagar camp that might be able to give them first-hand knowledge of whatever it was that they were going to be going up against.

Since she was not at all convinced that the evil that the Vagar spoke of and believed so deeply in was the same thing that had taken up residence amongst the graves of their dead.

She blew another puff of breath out of her nose as she resettled her chin atop her front paws, looking up from her prone position at the Vagar leader as the brightly clothed and bearded man looked between the two of them suspiciously. She could all but see him trying to find any possibly believable reason to deny the logic behind the plan... as well as the point where he gave up trying to find a way out of saying even a begrudging ‘yes,’ clearly unhappy at the turn of events.

“I suppose if the wolf stays between you and you keep your distance, it might be permitted, but...”

“Good! That’s all settled then. Tala?”

She shook her head slightly at the almost frightening cheerfulness in Rand’s voice as he spoke, pivoting in place to take full advantage of the uncertain permission that they’d just received. She lurched to her feet, giving a violent shake to her body to dislodge the fine and clinging dust from the open areas between the wagons from her fur before she trotted after Rand’s dark form...

Lupine lips pulled back into a grin of her own at the prospect of finally getting some answers.



“There were tombstones cracked and there was... there was this voice... a whispering, hissing thing... I couldn’t hear what it said, but I knew I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to wait to find out more. I ran, sir, an’ I’m not ashamed of it. I ran as fast as I could an’ I got out of there, my back tingling like something was watching me and wanted me to turn around, to go back to it.”

He nodded, listening to the rather bedraggled looking Vagar man that was living in absolute isolation from the rest of his clan until the end of his ‘cleansing’ period was finished. The man looked more than half uncertain and frightened to be talking to them, but while his voice was quiet, his words were clear.

“You never actually saw the thing that was speaking?”

He did his best to keep his voice neutral and his posture relaxed, all of his weight on one foot with one hand lightly wrapped around the hilt of the sword at his side the thumb of his other hand hooked over the stout but use worn leather of his belt. Behrooz swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down along his throat with the movement, while his eyes shifted from the white she-wolf sitting between them and the movement of his thumb as he absently stroked it against the smooth and cold steel of his sword’s pommel. He watched as the other man swallowed again before lifting his gaze back into his eyes as the Vagar man spoke and he had to give the other man this much, as much as he didn’t want to be anywhere near them, he was standing his ground.

“No. No, milord. I’m sorry I can’t help you more, but the thing was hidden in the woods. I could hear it moving through the underbrush, but I never saw even its shadow. But...”

“But?”

He silently cursed himself for that thread of eagerness in his voice and for that telltale movement forward that one foot had taken. Although he wasn’t the only one, he noticed. Tala had risen to her feet, her ears pricked forward as she intently watched the man they’d come to speak to - both of them waiting for him to say more.

“It’s just that... it had to have been big, milord, Guardian, really big, to make the kind of noises that I heard coming from the wood. And I think there might have been branches movin’ in the forest’s depths when I ran. I can’t be sure of that, though. Like I said, I’d already started back to camp as fast as my feet would carry me and it could have just been the wind besides...”

He sighed and nodded, doing his best to smile reassuringly at the shaken man. “Thank you, Behrooz. It may not seem like much, but you have helped.” The hand that had been resting at the belt on his hips lifted to tap twice against the fabric of his trews in what he knew was an unnecessary gesture for Tala to follow him as he turned and left. Indeed, the white she-wolf had nodded to the man herself and was all but at his side before he’d gone two paces.

“I think I know what it is.”



“Stranger.”

He turned to see the old fortune teller becoming to him from beside one of the brightly colored and decorated wagons. An abrupt nudge against his leg made him jump slightly even as he looked down into the smiling face of the white she-wolf he’d been traveling with for months. “I’ll meet you back at camp... If you think you’ll be able to fight off a clearly vicious fortune teller, that is.” He could hear her quiet laughter in his head as she ducked the halfhearted retaliatory swipe of his hand and without waiting further, turned and trotted away - pausing only to nod in acknowledgement of the fortune teller’s presence.

Shaking his head at the wolf and what he knew was his near perpetual scowl softening enough to allow an eyebrow to raise in confusion, he walked over towards her casting an anxious glance around and over his shoulder to see if they were going to be the center of attention as they had been the day before. When he looked back to the fortune teller she was smiling at him. “Do not worry, they will not disturb you. For bringing a Guardian to us during our time of need, I offer you advice and knowledge for your journey.

“Further west you will go into a great land of hills and scrub before you reach mountains again. Those lands are passable during the warmer months, but be warned. They turn treacherous and deadly once the snows come. Return the Lost One to her place among the Lords of the Wood quickly, you race against the turning of the seasons. If you would heed my advice, when you get to the Great Mother river of the north, do not attempt to cross quickly, though you will be tempted to. Wait and continue on the southern bank, keeping alternately to between high ground and low, and wait until you reach the great Bridge of the Spirits.”

“You will know it when you reach it. I have seen it only once, when I was much younger, but it is something I will never forget and nor will you once you’ve seen it.” The frown that had already returned to his brow deepened at the faint smile upon the old woman’s lips. He couldn’t shake the sensation that she was mocking him or at the very least laughing at his expense.

“Ask the Lost One of the Lords of the Wood about it, if you do not believe me. It is her people that guard that passage into their lands with fierce jealousy. I know that she speaks to you as well.” Without giving him a chance to react to that particular statement, the old woman thrust a brightly colored scarf towards him. “When you’ve defeated the Draemort, place a piece of wood with this tied about it at the crest of the hill that rises next to the path so that we know the task is done.”