WOT Adv 10 - Drakhar's Song

---- The Wheel Turns ----

You leave White Elm, glad to be back in the wilderness and you travel along the road at a fairly good clip. As the afternoon wears on, you can tell that Maeslyn is lagging behind. She looks pale and tired, but puts on a grim face, and you're glad she doesn't complain; instead she lowers her head and presses on.

You shake your head amazed at her stubborn nature. You wait for her to catch up as you crest a small hill.

"Why don't you ride now. You look like you could use a rest."

"I'm fine," she replies and moves past you.

"No you're not. You're pale and still ill from the shadow's assault."

"Stop babying me," she says grumpily, then she sighs. "But I suppose I better ride the horse if we're to make it to Caemlyn in time."

She mounts the horse and you continue your journey. The day is glowering with gray storm clouds. While the temperature is still tolerable for autumn, you figure you'll see some moisture before the day is up.

Maeslyn rides her horse in silence the rest of the day, speaking little, musing on her own thoughts. You leave her to her silence, glad to be able to concentrate on the task of reaching your next destination. The nearest real civilization, Aybiya informed you, was Low Goldpine, some 100 miles away. Of course there are scattered farm houses and maybe a collection of small houses along the way, but no real civilization for a few days.

The afternoon clouds continue to gather an after a while a slow, windless, yet persistent drizzle soon turns the dirt road into muddy slosh. You continue to press on in your journey until nearly dark, and you decide you had better find a place to camp.

You quickly leave the road, and find a small copse of trees surrounding a level piece of ground that rises up a bit from the nearby country side. A good sized stream, almost a small river runs at the base of the gradual incline.

You quickly set up the tent, prepare a fire from some dry wood you were able to scrounge up under a blanket of fallen leaves, and then care for the horse. Maeslyn busies herself and makes a tolerable dinner out of the trail rations and some herbs she found and some wild onions.

"I'm afraid my duties of apprentice at the White Tower involved more scrubbing than cooking," Maeslyn explains when you eye the contents in the wooden bowl with suspicion.

But it's hot food and you can't argue with that. You shrug and take a bite. Not too bad. Better than some you've had. Maeslyn eats heartily and cleans up the dishes, and then moves toward the tent.

"I'm going to sleep," she says in a bone tired voice. "Awake me if your need is dire." She closes the flap and soon all you are alone with the wilderness. The faint pitter patter of rain on the leafy trees. No stars or moon tonight. You sit huddled against the dark, knees close to the fire, determined to keep watch for a little while at least. You stack more wood on the fire and wait. Time passes. The fire burns lower.

You suddenly awaken. You look at the fire, only a few mintues, perhaps 10, had passed. You shake your head angrily. Something awakened you what was it? Something familiar. There it is again. A soft sound, almost like a dove's soft warbling. It's lovely in a strange, but haunting way. What does it remind you of? What gives it that quality, that almost personal touch?

You walk forward, through the fire, not even fealing the momentary heat that sears your skin. It's so soft... so delicious to hear. It's almost like something from your earliers memories. You walk down the gradual incline.
So long ago, cradled to your mother's breast, you heard similar soft cooing sounds. You feel completely warm and safe and drawn to it.

The cold water of the river brings you up suddenly short, and you look about in alarm, instantly alert and confused at the same time. By the Light! What am I doing in the middle of the river? The water swirls about you at about mid thigh in a deeper pool where the usually shallow waters gathered.

You remember the song now... that horrible, haunting song. The same song that was in that black and burned moss-covered ruin of a tower. Angrily you drop to a crouch, behind a boulder in the river and scan the far side of the river. You can see nothing in this drizzling rain and the darkness. But you can still hear singing. But now you are no longer drawn to it, but repulsed. It's a siren's song. A tool of the Dark One. A song to lead you to your eternal doom. Quickly you draw your bow and notch an arrow, pulling your Cadin'sor around your face, wondering what you should do next.