Chapter Text
B'lair Woodfoxen cradled his gloved fingers gently around the well-worn clay mug. His eyes closed in pleasure with the first warm sip of cider, but he set the mug down as his hands began to tremble, afraid he would attract unwanted attention. His chill was not from the cold breeze which blew through the unmortared cracks of the alehouse's walls, but from the knowledge he would die before he was ever warm again.
There had been a time when he hadn't cared whether he lived or died. He wasn't even sure he cared now, but surviving had become a habit and he objected to being tracked down like a rabid dog.
Not over a box run!
He had guessed the contents of the box were extremely valuable, otherwise the parties involved would have sent it along the normal caravan route. But what possible harm could there be in carrying a small box from a wizard in Cascadia to a merchant in the port city of Lahore?
He should have paid more attention to the woman at the cheese stand who had been babbling excitedly about the prince's stolen birthstone pendant. However, he had been sight-seeing and couldn't believe the human king actually thought harm would come to his son if a piece of jewelry was damaged.
It wasn't until he saw King Simon's personal guard stationed outside the brick building which had been his destination that he realized the danger. As the significance of the scene broke through his reverie, the Ranger Ellison, the king's personal trouble-shooter, had stepped out of the house onto the elaborate porch.
In the span of a heartbeat, B'lair realized what he was carrying and accepted the fact he would soon be dead.
Paralyzed with fear, his heart racing in his chest, he watched the ranger scan the curious crowd; and, as if in answer to his worst nightmare, the blue eyes of the hunter stilled as they fell upon him. An inner voice screamed at him to run, but he had been unable to free himself from the ranger's gaze until a carriage raced between them, allowing him to slip around a corner and run.
He had been running ever since.
Raucous laughter from a nearby table startled him from his memories. Unconsciously, he touched the source of his misfortune. He had considered dropping it down a rabbit warren, but didn't relish the idea of being tortured to reveal the gem's location. He had even considered simply giving the pendent to Ellison and explaining that it had all been a horrible misunderstanding, but had pushed the notion aside as foolish. So, he decided to return the gem to the palace. He forced a cough to stop the hysterical laughter which threatened to consume him. It was a clod-pated idea, but it gave him someplace to run. He had no doubt Ellison would catch him before he ever got close to the castle.
The tavern door flew open with a bang and B'lair felt the blood drain from his face. He loosened his grip on his rapier and watched a slender figure struggle to close the door against the storm raging outside.
The tavern became deadly silent as the newcomer turned to face the crowd. The blond-haired young man scanned the room as if looking for someone while unconsciously smoothing an impossibly white shirt. B'lair wondered if anyone else could sense the power behind the opaque green eyes, but knew the only thing the men around him sensed was prey.
Conversation slowly returned, but the laughter and grunts of before were replaced by secretive murmurs as the young man moved hesitantly toward an empty table. The bartender quickly gathered his order.
B'lair closed his eyes for he knew what was going to happen. The wilderness knew no law and only the strongest or cleverest survived. He wondered briefly if the power he sensed in the young man would be enough to take a few of the trappers with him or if he was even aware of his fate. The young man looked longingly at the door as if expecting someone, but also seemed to realize any movement in that direction would only hasten the men's actions.
Innocents! Why must it always be innocents, B'lair thought angrily as he clenched his fists. Couldn't the men see the badge on the boy's cloak, identifying him as a disciple of the Unnamed One, keeper of all knowledge? But he already knew the answer.
B'lair hated the men for their brutality. He hated living in a world which allowed such cruelty, but most of all, he hated himself for not doing anything about it. He swallowed the last of his cider and looked once again at the young man, who was trying to appear calm.
"Damn," B'lair swore softly to himself, waiting for the inevitable.
It wasn't long before two of the trappers sauntered arrogantly to the end of the boy's table.
"You from around here?" the larger man asked with a leer.
The blond-haired youngster refused to look at him, but answered, "No."
"Well, meebe we can show you around," his weaselly friend squeaked.
"In this weather? Thank you, but, no thank you."
"Not terribly friendly, are you?" The big man growled as he reached for the young man, but his hands never touched their intended target. Instead, he simply fell to the floor as did his smaller companion.
"Hey," shouted one of the trappers from the fireplace, "Whadja do to them?"
The boy was already heading for the door.
"Git 'im," someone yelled.
Three more men bound across the room. The first two to grab the boy screamed in pain and clutched their hands between their knees as if the pressure would stop the agony. The third grabbed him by the neck. "One more move and you won't live to ..."
"Not today," B'lair whispered as he stared, without emotion. The end of his bolt protruded from the neck of the third attacker.
Before anyone else could react, B'lair leapt for the door, praying the boy wouldn't see it as another attack.
"Get out of here!" He spun to face the room, leveling his crossbow at the crowd. "Everyone stay calm and no one else will get hurt." The door behind him opened and closed. He would give the child one hundred heartbeats, if he could, and then he was on his own.
Bodies shifted restlessly, but no one moved. B'lair wondered briefly how he would unlatch the door and still keep his eyes on the crowd. As if in answer to his thought, the door slammed open. Instinctively, he leapt for the opening, startling the woodsman who stood in the doorway. A searing heat lanced through his side as he dodged around the newcomer and he knew he had not made it out unscathed.
He heard tables and chairs overturning as the trappers raced for the door, but he had already entered a denser section of the woods. As long as he didn't stop, he knew they’d never be able to catch him.
B'lair ran at a steady pace until his vision blurred. Using an ancient oak for support, he gently pulled on the skinning knife protruding from his side and hissed when he realized the blade was barbed. He had lost a great deal of blood and his legs were more than a little shaky. He knew he’d have to remove the blade in order to bind his wound, but that meant stopping and he didn't feel safe enough to stop. Pressing his hand over the wound and around the knife hilt, he continued forward.
His world slowly began to tilt at an angle although he wasn't sure if it was due to the storm or from the loss of blood. He had lost track of time and distance, concentrating only on taking one more step and reaching one more tree.
He stopped and tried to focus on what lay ahead of him. It wasn't until a jag of lightning briefly brightened the night sky that he noticed the two figures in front of him. He brought his rapier up to the ready, but his wrist would no longer support its weight. He watched numbly as it fell to the ground. Tossing his head back, he laughed in defiance as his legs gave way, finding comfort in the fact he wouldn't feel what they were going to do to his body.
B'lair gasped, his body arching upward in an attempt to escape the bonds of unconsciousness. He forced his eyes open only to discover the colors of his world had melded like a child's spinning top. Firm, but gentle hands, supported him, then gently lowered him back onto the mattress.
"Oh Sky . . . I had the worst dream," he whispered in the language of his childhood. Hands tenderly moved the hair from his eyes and briefly caressed his cheek. But even as he spoke, he felt the wrongness of his words. He bit his lip to prevent the cry which welled within his soul; only after drawing in several ragged breaths did he attempt to reopen his eyes.
Many facts came to him in that instant. He was in a bed in a small room; it was night; the storm had stopped; a cricket was singing loudly nearby; and someone was sitting on the edge of his bed.
Slowly, his gaze focused on the face above him, praying it was that of the boy for whom he had interceded. He froze as the face of Ranger Ellison solidified. B'lair let his eyelids fall shut as he swallowed his fear. He would not dishonor himself before he died; but thoughts of death disappeared as he wondered how he came to be in such a place.
"Where's the child?"
A look of confusion flitted across the ranger’s handsome face. "Child? What child?"
"Don't play games with me. If you've harmed the boy, I will see you burn in hell," B'lair threatened between clenched teeth.
"Calm down," the warrior said in a firm, but soothing voice. "The only one who's been harmed this evening is you. Rafael blames himself for your wound. He swore he wouldn’t rest until you were completely healed. I finally had to order him to lie down about an hour ago."
"You...know the child?"
"Of course, I know him. Why do you think you're here?"
In all of his worrying about being caught by Ellison, never once had B'lair pictured this man, one of the most dangerous warriors alive, sitting on the edge of his bed with a slightly confused and tired look on his face.
Quietly, Ellison stood and B'lair steeled himself for an attack, but the ranger went to the door apparently unaware of his discomfort.
"Taggart," he bellowed as he opened the door. "Oh, sorry," he apologized in a much lower tone to someone in the hall. "Is Rafe still up? Good. Would you send him in? Our guest has awakened."
Ellison turned and leaned casually against the wall. B'lair felt the intensity of the warrior's gaze upon him and although it made him uncomfortable, he returned it with a nonchalance which made Ellison smile. A small rap at the door drew the warrior's attention away from him.
"Come in, Rafe. Our guest seems to think I've done something ungracious to you." The ranger grinned as he ushered the boy into the room. Turning back to B'lair, he said, "Milord, may I introduce to you Rafael, or Rafe as we call him, disciple of the Unnamed One and healer."
B'lair shifted uncomfortably, trying to sit up.
"No, don't!" The boy rushed forward and gently pushed B'lair back onto the mattress. "You must conserve your strength. You've lost a lot of blood. How do you feel?" He rested a hand over B'lair's forehead, checking for signs of fever.
"Like hell," B'lair muttered. He couldn't stop the smile from reaching his face at the shocked look on the young healer's face over his choice of words, although it waned when he looked at the ranger.
Rafe followed his gaze. "James, why don't you go downstairs and have an ale with Joel," he suggested politely.
The ranger hesitated for a moment.
"Don't worry, we're just going to talk."
The ranger nodded slowly and B'lair could tell something had passed unspoken between the two men before he left.
Funny, B'lair thought, he never imagined the ranger having a first name.
Rafe smiled at his charge. "You're lucky to feel anything at all. The wound in your side was quite wicked. If James and Joel hadn't found you when they did...well, I don't even want to think about that possibility."
B'lair's gaze returned to the closed door. "Why did he permit me to live?"
"What an odd question." Rafe laughed. "He couldn't very well let you bleed to death in the forest--not after you risked life and limb for me." The young man sat on the edge of the bed, nervously fussing with the blanket. Finally, he lifted his gaze. "Why did you risk your life for me?"
B'lair looked up into the solemn face, but could only hear a joyous laugh echoing from the past. A lump grew in his throat and his eyes ached with the need to cry, but the tears didn’t come, as he knew they wouldn't.
"He was close to you."
B'lair nodded.
"Was it a long time ago?"
B'lair nodded again.
"What was his name?" Rafe asked gently. "Healing will only start once you've released the pain."
"I know," B'lair looked into the young healer's face, and added, hoping he’d understand, "but the hate is what keeps me alive."
Rafe nodded. "Are there any family members I can contact for you?"
"No. They’re all dead."
"Are there any friends I can contact for you?"
B'lair's eyes widened with surprise. Surely a human, and a young one at that, wouldn't know about the Welcome. "No, there's no one."
"Do you have anywhere to go?"
B'lair smiled gently and placed an unsteady hand on the healer. "You don't have to do this, child."
"Do you have anywhere to go?" Rafe asked again, ignoring his protest.
"Please, don't," B'lair whispered.
"Do you have anywhere to go?" the healer repeated, intent on completing the ritual.
"No," he mouthed silently and looked way. He tried to pull his hand back, but Rafe held it firmly until B'lair looked back at him.
"Then I would be greatly honored if you would reside with me and mine until you’re feeling better."
"You don't even know who I am."
"I know enough. I’d really like to give you a couple days to rest. Unfortunately, we have a rather urgent matter to attend to in the capitol. But if you ride with us, I can keep an eye on your wound. Once we reach Cascadia, you may go your own way or stay with us. We won't leave until dawn so try to get some more sleep." Rafe placed B'lair's hand gently on the bed. "I need to speak with James for a moment. Will you be all right by yourself?"
"Yes."
"Good, I'll be right back."
As soon as the door shut behind the healer, B'lair balled his hands into fists and slammed them into the bed in frustration.
"Stupid," he hissed.
How in the Unknown One's name did he get himself into such a fix? First, he was being hunted by Ellison and now this young boy, one of Ellison's own team, gives his sanctuary. Would that stop Ellison if he discovered that B'lair was the one he was searching for? He snorted. Of course not. But what of the healer? Would he stand idly by after giving the Welcome? No, B'lair decided after a moment, he wouldn't. It had been an eternity since anyone had extended the Welcome to him and it warmed him down deep in a place he rarely visited anymore, but he couldn't have the healer in the middle when the inevitable happened. Would Ellison hurt the healer? There was affection between them, but he decided he couldn't take any chances.
Scanning the room, he spotted his belongings on a small table at the end of the bed. Throwing off the covers, he gritted his teeth as he slowly sat up and lifted his leather boots off the floor. He felt the pendent tucked safely away in a hidden pocket which he usually used for traveling money. Anyone feeling the bulge in the walls of the boot should assume it was a design flaw. Still, he was grateful Ellison had not investigated more closely.
His whole body shook with exhaustion by the time he finished dressing. Determined to leave before the healer returned, he wobbled towards the door, but as he reached for the latch, the door opened, knocking his off his feet.
"What the...I thought...oh, here, let me help you up," James Ellison sputtered as he came around the door. "I was under the impression you wouldn't be on your feet so soon."
"I'm not," B'lair sighed.
To his amazement, the ranger laughed. "So, I see. Where were you off to?" He scooped B'lair off the floor and placed him back on the bed.
"I've imposed on your kindness long enough."
"But Rafael said he extended the Welcome."
"Aye, he did," B'lair admitted. "But I have the means to take care of myself. He needn't feel obligated to me for any reason."
"We all feel obligated," the Ranger said quietly. "Rafe is a valued member of my team. If anything had happened to him..."
"There's no reason for you or the boy to feel any debt toward me. I don't want to sound callous, but it was nothing more than a whim. It's just that tonight, I couldn't sit back and watch one more..."
"Act of violence."
"Yes," he said, surprised that a man known for violence would understand.
"Then maybe I have a solution to our problems."
"Our problems?"
"Yes. You need to know you aren't imposing and I..." The ranger hesitated for a moment. "I need someone of your talents."
"My talents," B'lair repeated warily.
"Yes. To put it bluntly, Rafe found your tools while he was tending your wound. I've been in this business long enough to tell their quality and to know that only the best carry them. Although, I will admit, I was more than a little surprised to realize that one of the People would practice your profession."
"You should have seen my mother's reaction when she found out," B'lair lied blatantly. The ranger laughed. Trying to keep the warrior from asking another indirect personal question, which he’d also refuse to answer, the thief diverted the man's attention back to the original conversation. "Just exactly what would I be procuring?"
Ellison smiled at his phrasing, but sat on the bed beside him. "What do you know of the birthstones of King Simon's children?"
B'lair's mind whirled. Was this a trap? "The birthstones? Aren't they precious gems owned by the King? I seem to remember some sort of elaborate ceremony in which a semi-precious stone is presented to the king at the birth of each heir. Don't humans believe if the stone is destroyed, its human counterpart will die?"
"Yes."
"Why do you ask?"
"Two weeks ago, a wizard in the king's employ stole Simon's oldest son's stone. I guess he believed no one would miss it. The boy immediately took ill. The wizard, upon questioning, told us he gave the stone to an adventurer to take to a merchant in Lahore, who had promised him a great deal of gold for it."
It took every ounce of his remaining strength not to shudder when the ranger told him about questioning the wizard. "I'm still not clear as to how I can assist you," he said quietly. "Shouldn't you question the merchant about the gem's whereabouts?"
"I would, but he's dead."
"Dead?"
"Yes. Somehow he found out I was coming to speak with him and killed himself."
"I guess you get a lot of drastic reactions when people hear you're looking for them."
The ranger seemed surprised. "You know me?"
"Yes." B'lair damned himself the second the word was out of his mouth. So little was publicly known about the ranger. There were rumors that the only ones who knew what he looked like were the king and those Ellison had killed. Some believed he was a practitioner of the black arts, others swore he was a sentinel, while others claimed he didn't really exist except as a bogeymen to frighten the king's enemies. His anonymity helped him to do the king's business. He could go anywhere, do anything, and no one was ever the wiser.
"Am I getting sloppy?" The ranger's eyebrows furled in concern.
"No," B'lair said quietly. "I'm that good." Stupid, he groaned inwardly. Even if Ellison didn't know about the stone, he’d think he was some sort of a spy.
"Good, I need someone of your caliber."
"I take it the merchant didn't have the stone?"
"No. From all indications, the adventurer never reached his final destination. My guess is when he got to Lahore and heard the rumors flying about the city, he went somewhere quiet, opened the box and found the very thing half the world is looking for."
"You think he ditched the stone?"
"That's what an average man would do and, undoubtedly, if he had, the prince would be dead now--which he's not. No, our man seems to be taking extreme measures to keep the stone safe from harm. In fact, I recently got a report stating the prince's health is steadily improving."
"So where do you think he's going with the birthstone?"
"I think he's taking it back to the capitol."
"That's insane."
"Is it? If I'm correct in my estimation of this man's character, he doesn't want the stone for profit, but he can't just walk up to an Imperial guard and turn it over either. There would be awkward questions to answer and an inquiry in which I'm sure he doesn't want to participate. Also, I believe there's another reason he's planning to take the pendant back to the capitol."
"What's that?"
"His trail. Professional secrets, I'm afraid, prohibit me from going into too much detail, but my team and I were tracking the stone. The storm was impeding our progress so we split up, but the trail was definitely leading north, back to the capitol. When the storm became too intense, Rafe decided the best course of action would be to wait it out and regroup. You know the rest of the story."
B'lair closed his eyes for a moment, hoping Ellison would think he was trying to absorb the information just given him, but all he could see were Rafe's eyes scanning the room as he entered the tavern. If it hadn't been raining...he refused to think about that possibility.
"I don't know if I'm up to a race to Cascadia at the moment."
"We won't be racing anywhere. I want to give our adventurer plenty of time to return the gem."
"Then you won't be hunting him down?"
"No. My only concern is the gem and the Prince's health."
"I have one more question to ask before I agree."
"Ask it."
"You haven't even asked for my name, yet you're willing to trust me with the prince's life. Why?"
"Because you know who I am and, undoubtedly, know that no one ever betrays me."
B'lair smiled weakly. "I'll be happy to help you search for the gem."
"Good. I'll tell the others." Ellison's expression softened as he gently pushed the thief onto his back. "You should get some rest. I'll have someone look in on you in a couple of minutes." With that, he was gone.
It was a dangerous plan, B'lair speculated. More dangerous than anything he’d ever attempted. If he could pull if off, he’d be...grateful to still have his head. But could he pull it off? Could he find the gem in the castle without anyone being the wiser? No one harmed, no trusts broken. He closed his eyes and smiled. He could do this.
B'lair's second awakening was not as violent as the first, but he sensed something was wrong. Had the ranger guessed his secret? Had he known all along that he was the adventurer? No, this felt different. He stiffly got out of bed, grabbed his crossbow and quietly opened the door. The wrongness became almost palatable.
He moved silently and slowly to the end of the hallway, where the second floor looked over the common room below. What he saw boggled the imagination. A tall man garbed totally in black stood inches away from the ranger, his finger on the trigger of a deadly looking crossbow aimed directly at the ranger's heart.
Another assassin stood by another warrior, whom he assumed was Taggart. The healer was similarly covered.
"Enough games. Where is it?" the assassin in front of Ellison yelled.
"I don't have it," the ranger said quietly.
B'lair's thoughts swirled violently. He had no doubt the assassins would soon kill one of Ellison's teammates to make a point. If, by some twist of fate, everyone was killed, he’d have no protection back to Cascadia. Surveying the scene below him, he realized how desperately he needed protection.
Scanning the room, he noticed the guard on the older warrior, wasn’t paying complete attention to his prisoner. He seemed more interested in sneaking furtive glances towards the boy healer, but glared occasionally at the warrior to let him know he hadn't forgotten his task. If he timed it right, he could take the careless guard out of the equation. The question was, would the older warrior be quick enough to save the healer before a bolt found its way through the boy's heart? He had no doubt Ellison could save himself. The only reason the ranger hadn't moved was because he wasn't sure he could move fast enough to save the others. B'lair wished he could signal the warrior in some way, but knew he couldn't give up the element of surprise.
"I don't have time for your games. You're heading back to Cascadia. You must have it. Therefore, as a demonstration to my determination, Treel, kill the..." The assassin's voice trailed off as he heard the choking cough of one of his men. "Kill them," he shouted
But it was too late.
The ranger had the distraction he need. The leader's life ended a fraction of a second later.
B'lair was terrified. He had never seen anyone move so fast. Taggart, despite his girth, killed the assassin covering the healer, while Ellison spun and snapped the neck of the wounded guard on Taggart. It had all happened within the span of a heartbeat.
B'lair stumbled back a step. He had been mistaken. He couldn't possibly pull off the con he’d contemplated. He was about to bolt when a tenor voice called up to him. "That's two I owe you."
It was too much. He had to sit down. He tried to turn back toward his room, but his legs would no longer support his weight. He made a grab for the railing to slow his descent, but missed.
"James," Taggart yelled when he saw the young thief begin to fall. Ellison was up the stairs in a flash, cushioning B'lair's head with his arms before it hit the floor.
"So fast," B'lair whispered in awe.
"Rafe," the ranger shouted, ignoring his comment.
"No, please don't bother the child. He's been through enough today," he protested weakly.
"That's the second time you've called me a child today," the healer said, slightly annoyed. "You know, chronologically you're only a few years older than I am and if we were to talk to a full-blooded elf you’d actually be considered younger than I am."
Rafe laughed gently as he knelt beside him. Taking one of B'lair's hands in his own, he guided it to his left ear and let the thief feel the pointed tip.
"But..."
"I'm a halfling. My facial features come from my father's side."
"I'm so sorry," B'lair said sadly, realizing how the healer knew the Welcome.
"No, don't be. It wasn't rape. It was love."
B'lair couldn't quite bring himself to believe it, but didn't want to hurt the healer's feelings.
"I'll take the trash out, James," Taggart said from below.
The ranger nodded, but didn't take his eyes off B'lair's face.
"You seem to have the most impeccable sense of timing," Rafe said with amusement. "I just hope you haven't injured yourself further on our behalf."
B'lair began to think he might’ve been apart from his own kind for too long if he could no longer recognize an elf when he came upon one? Looking at the ranger and back to the healer, he put two and two together.
"No, you're wrong," James said quietly as if reading his thoughts. "Although I care for this one as if he were my own, he is not of my loins."
B'lair didn't believe Ellison's disclaimer for a moment, but decided not to argue with him. If the ranger had a son, it would be the one and only chink in his armor, a chink which could be used to destroy him. No, B'lair decided, he wouldn't pursue this line any further.
"Are you hurt?" the ranger asked, bringing B'lair out of his thoughts.
"No...I...my legs don't seem to want to work."
"No problem." Ellison gently gathered the thief up into his arms and stood. After what seemed like only a few steps, the ranger knelt beside the bed and laid the thief upon it.
Somehow, B'lair mused, he always seemed to be ending up in bed with this man. The thought made him smile.
"You should eat more." The ranger returned his smile as he leaned forward and brushed a strand of curly hair out of B'lair's eyes. Quietly and quickly, he turned and whispered something to Rafe, who had followed them into the room, then left.
"I bless the Unnamed One for this day that he brought you into our lives." Rafe laid a hand over B'lair's eyes. B'lair tried to fight the sleep which stole up to snatch him, but found he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. The fear he felt earlier was replaced by a deep abiding peace.
He would confess. He was sure Ellison would show him mercy and grant him a quick death. After all, he had saved members of Ellison's team not once, but twice. He’d even gladly confess to any unsolved crimes as long as they would let his off the back of the ever-moving-black-demon-spawn-from-hell masquerading as a horse.
He was tempted to tear off the blindfold, but the darkness still had a soothing effect on him as darkness always did. He knew he should try to concentrate on the smells and sounds around him, for knowing a secret way into Simon's castle could be extremely profitable. However, the pain coursing through him laid waste to that plan. Without warning, the demon came to an abrupt stop. Were they finally within the castle walls? If they were, he’d confess out of gratitude.
He flinched as hands gently touched his face and removed the blindfold, but relaxed when he heard Ellison's voice break through the pulsing in his ears. As his vision adjusted to the light, he saw a look of concern cross the warrior's face. Suddenly, the healer was in front of him placing his warm hands on his wound. B'lair felt as if he were coming out of a long tunnel as his heartbeat stopped pounding in his ears.
Taking in his surroundings, he realized he was in a stable and Taggart was gone.
"That should do it. How do you feel?" the healer asked.
Not trusting himself to speak, B'lair nodded.
Taggart appeared suddenly. "Cassie will be here within the hour. The King wants her to reestablish the link with the gemstone."
"An hour," Rafe whispered.
"We'll just have to find it before then," James said.
Knowing he wouldn't like the answer, B'lair still asked, "Who's Cassie?"
"She's an arrogant wizard who occasionally does odd jobs for the king." Rafe looked desperately at the ranger.
"Once the witch starts her spell, she'll lead a bloody parade throughout the castle. We must act now. Taggart, distract her once she gets here." The older warrior nodded and was gone. The ranger moved toward B'lair. "Are you well enough to aid us in our search?"
"Yes, I believe so."
"Where would you suggest we start?"
B'lair thought for a moment. "Our adventurer will, no doubt, look for a quiet spot; a place where he can hide the gem without someone accidentally stumbling upon him, but also needing a place secure enough where casual eyes wouldn't chance upon the stone."
"Any ideas?" Rafe prodded.
"The falconry," B'lair said with sudden inspiration. "It's up high and a place where few would venture without purpose."
"Let's go then." James grabbed B'lair's hand and plunged into the heart of the castle.
Who would have guessed the falconer would take such pride in his work? The place was immaculate. No nook or cranny existed which wouldn't make the man appear to be a total imbecile for not finding the stone earlier.
B'lair couldn’t bring himself to find the gem in his area.
"Cassie could show up at any time," Rafe said desperately behind him.
B'lair gazed out the falconry window to the courtyard below. He wasn't sure he possessed the strength to leave the tower. He decided to give the gem to the ranger. He’d made a valiant attempt, but failed. As he turned to face his doom, he saw an elderly priest exit a small door across the courtyard below them.
"Rafael," he whispered. "Where does that door lead?"
The healer leaned out the window. "To the chapel. Why?"
"Of course, why didn't I think of that?" Ellison grinned as he wrapped an arm around B'lair's waist, seeming to realize the thief was almost at the end of his strength.
As they passed one of the arches leading to another part of the castle, B'lair noticed a crowd of people talking excitedly. No doubt, Cassie had arrived and was beginning to establish her link. Taggart must have failed in his attempt to stall her.
Pushing their way into the chapel, the ranger, healer and thief looked like a party being chased by demons.
"Okay, everyone take a deep breath." The ranger slammed the door shut behind them. "Where would our adventurer hide the pendant? Split up and look."
The ranger went left, starting at the back of the chapel and heading toward the front. The healer went right and followed suit. B'lair took the opportunity to take the pendant out of his boot and slip it into his sleeve. With the switch accomplished, he looked for a good hiding spot.
Once, a long time ago, he had worshipped in the temple of the Unnamed One, had believed the message of brotherhood, but had seen that dream crushed under the reality of greed and hatred. Never-the-less, he prayed for guidance, for he had lives to avenge. However, silence was his only response--as it had been for years.
"Ellison," he called out quietly.
"Yes?"
"What are those holes in the wall behind the altar?" His gaze fell upon the brickwork before him.
"Those," Rafe supplied, when the ranger hesitated, "are candle ledges. You see how some of the bricks jut out while others are recessed? During the celebration of the Passing, lit candles are placed on the ledges and into the crevices. It creates the most glorious luminous effect. Wonderful for losing yourself in meditation. Why?"
The ranger grinned in understanding as he and B'lair jogged behind the altar. "Can you climb up?"
B'lair cautiously tested for handholds. "Right now, I think I could fly."
"Be careful. Lord only knows how old this masonry is," Rafe warned. He then spun toward the door. "I'll check the courtyard." A small gasp ripped through the healer after he opened the door. He slammed it shut a second later. "Cassie’s heading this way."
"Stall her," James barked. The healer's eyes grew large, but nodded and slipped outside. "Any luck?" he called up to B'lair.
"Not yet."
For a brief second, James turned toward the screeching voice raised in indignation outside the chapel. It was all the distraction B'lair needed. Slipping the pouch out of his sleeve, he found the stone halfway up the wall.
"I think I found something." He held the small leather pouch in triumph.
"Hurry," James shouted. B'lair jumped, without hesitation, into his outstretched arms.
The chapel door started to open, but slammed shut again.
"Open the pouch," James ordered.
B'lair unknotted the leather strings.
"Drop the pendant into my hands."
Without a word, he complied and watched in fascination as the ranger gently rubbed his hands back and forth over the gem. Swallowing hard, B'lair forced himself to look into the ranger's face. The warrior's blue eyes seared into his.
He knew. He’d always known.
"Now, I want to know."
"Know what?" B'lair whispered.
"Your name."
"Woodfoxen. B'lair Woodfoxen." It never dawned on him to lie. No matter how good Ellison was, he’d never be able to learn B'lair's secrets or find him if he didn’t want to be found.
"You should eat more, B'lair Woodfoxen." The ranger gently brushed a strand of hair out of the thief's eyes and hooked it behind one of his pointed ears.
The chapel door slammed open and a red-headed woman leapt into the room. "The pendant is here. I can feel it."
"Yes, it is." James gazed into B'lair's face and gently caressed his cheek, before he turned to face the crowd and lifted the pendant in his left hand. With his right, he pushed B'lair behind him, giving the thief a chance to raise his hood.
"My team has found it; and now, I will personally place it in our liege's hands."
The crowd behind the wizard parted and shouted their praises as James emerged from the chapel. Cassie harumphed loudly, stating she would’ve found it herself in another few minutes, but the crowd was no longer listening. They were cheering and clapping as the ranger grabbed the young healer by the waist and led the procession toward the throne room.
Ellison was letting his go. The thought stunned him. Briefly, he looked back at the altar, but refused to let his thoughts dwell on the possibility of miracles. Whatever the reason, he wasn't about to stand around and question his luck. He needed the solitude of the forest to reflect.
Slowly, he walked through the castle gates; hoping he wouldn't collapse before he reached the forest. As he reached the forest's edge, he turned to face the granite monstrosity and vowed never to take another box run no matter what the price. He started to turn back toward the woods, but stopped as he felt the ranger's eyes upon him. He knew instinctually he’d be seeing the Ranger Ellison again and although a part of him cringed in terror over the prospect, another part smiled. He wasn't really a bad sort--for a human--and one kind deed deserved another.
"Will he be all right?" the Ranger asked his young companion.
"Yes. He is healed. He just needs time to regain his strength," the healer replied.
"You're letting him go?" Taggart watched the figure in the distance disappear into the woods.
"Yes."
"Why? Surely you didn't let his beauty sway you."
"No, of course not."
"Then why did you let him go?" the healer asked quietly.
"Gratitude, perhaps. For doing the right thing in the face of overwhelming obstacles. I don't know really. However, I do know one thing."
"What's that?" the healer asked.
"There's a mystery to our young thief."
"Aye, there is." Taggart smiled.
"And you know how I love a good puzzle."
"Aye lad, I do," laughed the older warrior.
"Well, B'lair Woodfoxen is one mystery I intend to solve."