9.  Of events which are yet to come, and others which have long since passed.

 

  'Your father.'  Evadel took a deep breath.  She looked very tired suddenly.  'He was always a bit of a mystery, that man.  I'm still not sure I understand much of what he did, or why he did it.  He just sort of comes and goes as he pleases.  Yet, somehow I feel like there is some greater purpose behind his actions.'

  'We first met him back when I had both of my legs.  At the time both Ysen and myself were part of a group that traveled to tell stories and play music.  We weren't calling ourselves adventurers, but we got into trouble as often as we could.  In truth, it was danger we were seeking.  Performing was just an excuse to seek it out.'

  'One of our little trips out landed us in some trouble.  We had found a small hideout, a place where bandits gathered to raid travelers with enough coin to be worthwhile.  As most any group of adventurers would do we swept in and cleaned it out.  A nice little surprise attack that left us with a decent sum and no wounds to speak of.  We thought we had managed a nice little find.  Most of the bandits weren't there, though.'

  'It was three days later, and we were enjoying our newfound wealth.  A little time relaxing and drinking had sounded pretty good, and we were in no shape to worry about anything other than finding our way to bed.  Then, as evening set in, we found the alehouse we had chosen surrounded.  We had made quite a commotion.  It was probably the easiest tracking job those bandits ever had.'

  'They set fire to the building, and when a couple of the people inside tried to run they shot them.  We had nowhere to go.  We could burn, or we could be filled full of arrows.  My skills were useless with all the smoke.  That, and we were drunk.  Any magic we tried would have been dangerous, like throwing knives into the air and hoping they don't fall on you.  Magic takes control and focus, and we didn't have it.'

  'He was there, in one corner of the building.  He sat there, and kept sipping his drink until the smoke started to bother him.  Then, without a word he set to work.  Lightning surged around us, hammering the walls of the inn.  The frost spread out from each strike.  Magic can do some very wierd things, and we saw one of those that night.  The flames froze, not dying at all but just turning into a solid chunk of ice.  It was beautiful.  Beautiful, and very scary.  The bandits vanished... I am not sure if they were scared or just decided it wasn't worth the effort.'

  'Everyone fawned over him, of course, but he just ignored it and sat there with his drink.  It wasn't that he was drinking a lot, but more like he just wanted to take a little time and ignore everything else.  He just sat there, nursing the ale, and ignoring whatever else was around him.'

  'We met him a few more times, always when things seemed to be going wrong.  Looking back it is like he was there because he knew something bad was going to happen.  I don't think it was the other way around, a curse is noisy business and he never sounded cursed.  He only said his name, Chevrik, once.  It was the only time we helped him, instead of him helping us.'

  'He was there when we first encountered the Smalgor that you fought, although we had no clue the thing survived at that time.  It wasn't important to us then.  At that time, we had wandered into the lair of a bigger demon, one that the Smalgor would have called master.  That was the time we helped him.  He had been there fighting it, and it was either coincidence or fate that we wandered in there that day.  The two of them had been blasting away at each other, demon fire against frost and lightning, for long enough to make the cavern start to break down, rock turning to sand under the constant stress.  We rushed in to help him, our old leader had some sort of odd raport with your dad that none of the rest of us understood, and with us as a distraction he was able to defeat that demon.  At first we had thought the whole lair was cleared of fiends, but a few came back to haunt us, the Smalgor being the last of them.'

  'It was that one day, when he mentioned his name, that brought me here.  I was looking for him, and instead I found you, Imelwain.  His son, just a little boy at the time, but already one that sounded of lighning and ice acting in harmony.  You sounded like a tiny storm, full of hail and thunder waiting to drop down out of the sky.  He had been a raging tempest, but his wake was already faded and I could find no clues where he went.  His power was what we needed to end the hunts, to stop that fiend, and the best we had was you.'

  'Your father, you see, is wild.  He doesn't work like the people you know.  I was amused that your mother tamed him long enough to have you... although having met with her I can see that she is stern enough to withstand him in her own way.  Sadly, that is all I can give you, a story and a name.  Chevrik, your father, a man who walks where he wills and who may be linked with some greater destiny.'

  Imelwain looked at her for a little while, contemplating.  'I know that you think I act rashly, and I know I don't understand how things really work.  I've always lived my life with the conviction that things are going to work out, and that what is important can be found with a minimum of reflection.  That isn't always the full of it, though, and I can not fault you for giving what you can.  I guess it is what I expected, me with my head always full of stories.  Something vague, and ambiguous.  It makes for a perfect start!'

  'I'm going to need a lot of help, so who's in?'  He cried cheerfully.

  'In for what?'  Cynthia gave him a hard stare, uneasy about anything that excited such a headstrong person.

  'A quest.'  Peter replied.

  'Exactly!'  Imelwain bounced out of his chair.  'It has all the elements of the start of a grand quest!  Family, mystery, and a link to something important to the larger world!  There's magic, demons, and a backstory that relates to people we know!  I want to go and see if we can figure out what this greater purpose my father was working toward is, and to do something about it.'

  'No.'  Evadel practically threw him into his chair.  Practically, in this case, being because he never actually hit the chair.  Instead he crashed onto his rear on the floor behind it.  'That is a dangerous road to follow, and you are nowhere near ready to go off and do something like that.  Besides which, I won't let you because your mother would try to kill me.'

  Gerald offered him a hand.  'I think you are underestimating us.'  Everyone in the room turned to stare at him, shocked.  'What?  I think an adventure like this would be perfect.  Not only would it give me plenty of chances to learn about and practice powerful magic, but it would fill the role for which I study... the chance to do something of merit.  Also, while we may not be ready, that doesn't mean we should avoid planning for when we are.'

  'I guess.  I'm not exactly learning any new about fighting hanging around here, and adventure means money.'  Cynthia nudged Dubrick with her elbow.  'You have to come so you can write the plays about the rest of us, and don't think I've forgetten that you owe me.'

  'Oh come on!  It was only a flower!'  Dubrick snarled at her, letting his frustration get the better of him.  'It didn't mean anything!'

  'That isn't what those other boys thought.  I did save you from getting beaten up over it!  You owe me, or are you too chicken?'

  'Peter, help me fend this crazy woman off!'

  'No way.  She might hurt me.'  Peter looked at Cynthia warily.  'I'm not going against her without at least three or four other people helping me out.'

  Imelwain smiled and grabbed Dubrick's arm.  'There's no resisting it, you are part of our group!'

  'Enough!'  Evadel did not hold back, and the bardic magic was enough to leave the youths dazed.  She lost herself completely in the magic, her eyes unfocused and the words coming forth being ones she herself would not have spoken.  'You will not talk about adventuring again until the donkey dances with the crow and seven stars leave the sky to nestle in the palms of the chosen.  When that happens you will depart with haste, for the madman of Stungelheid has laid plans, and you have the key to prevent that disaster.'  She sank into her chair, exhausted.  Focus returned to her eyes, and she blinked rapidly as if something bothered her.  'What did I just say?  I can't have... please tell me I didn't.'

  Dubrick was the one who replied, looking her directly in the eye.  'I can not say details, but you did.  We, we must be ready, for something greater than any of us has set destiny in motion.  I do not know if Imelwain's father will be involved, and I do not know if we will succeed.  It was almost useless.  We can't be ad... ex...'  He tripped over his tongue, the magic preventing him from saying what he wanted.  'I can't say it.'

  'We did learn something of use.'  Gerald interjected.  'Stungelheid.'

  Evadel slammed her fist down on the table.  'Wonderful.  Stungelheid!'  Sarcasm drenched her tone.  'I guess I should write my apology notes and will now.  I just made a prophecy that sends you all into one of the most barbaric places on the continent.  I am so dead!'

  'But it isn't your fault!'  Imel replied.

  'Tell that to your mother.  And to the other parents involved.  Just don't expect them to agree.'