Upon a Star: Karyana's Journey: Chapter 18

A friend returns... though her memories have not entirely.

Chapter 18

Alban was glad Lord Xenethil gave him that belt of giant's strength for three reasons right now: one, he had to carry his immense sword on his back, as well as his own travel gear and armor; two, he had to climb down a rather steep slope that went from Shardfall's plateau down to the main road; and three… no one else had the current strength to carry Karyana long enough to keep her from rubbing against the rocky pavement.

That, and the fact that the only clothes the group had to cover the newly-reborn young woman's bare body was the ranger's cloak which, though wide enough to cover her still-unconscious form, did nothing to keep her feet warm, even if Turalyon had sacrificed his sash and torn a piece of his robes, of which the Order gave him as a sign of his rank, to wrap them up.

Onyx might be quite the pack-rat, the burly ranger thought, but the dwarf didn't have enough sense to carry an extra set of clothes, aside from his smithy's apron, which wouldn't fit on the young woman's docile form, except as a makeshift skirt, after the straps had been cut, holes made and the whole thing crudely tied together.

Korgan's mantle had been tied and twisted into a top to keep Karyana's bosom still, which made the whole situation a little less embarrassing. However, had she been wearing jewelry on her naked arms and barely-covered legs, she would have looked like a resting slave dancer from the Shimmering Fields, though the caucasian skin tone wouldn't have matched the normal tan of the inhabitants of the sands.

"How much further to Myst?" the war-priest asked, rubbing his gloved hands against the chain mail around his arms, the motion not giving as much heat as he wanted to. "We really need to get out of this blasted weather."

"I'm more concerned about her." Onyx replied, looking at the bundled form that Alban was holding in his arms. "It's been almost an hour since we left that crater and she's still not waking up."

"Are we even sure she's alive?" Turalyon wondered, taking a moment to catch his breath as the last stretch of the steep pass was in sight. "I can't tell if she's even breathing."

Alban didn't answer, because he didn't really know. The cold wind was making it hard to tell if she was warm, and he didn't even dare looking at her, even as the windswept cloak was trying its best to cover her legs. It was as if her body had been reassembled, but her mind was still being pieced together.

"If Lord Raemu himself tried to punish that witch, I wouldn't give her much of a chance." Korgan commented, taking vanguard position in the narrow pass as the group marched down the slope. "But if that other girl was able to get the Planar of Justice himself to spare that wild child… This is getting more and more confusing."

Turalyon let out a long yawn and stretched to the point where Onyx wondered if there something attaching the bones and muscles together. "What I'd give for a few warm blankets." the battlemage said in between two loud yawns, seemingly too tired to care that his prized mage robes were torn from the ankles down.

Before one of the group retorted to tell him to shut up, Alban spotted something at the base of the plateau. Something, he hoped, would be a blessing.

A campfire.

----

Taloron let out a heavy sigh �" as heavy as he was. The burly merchant, which could have passed as a stout dwarf, if not for his human size, scratched his beard as he looked about, turning on himself to view the full scope, as his neck was still stiff from sleeping on old rocks and roots. Even with a thick blanket, rest was almost impossible for him. Especially not with his current business.

The boulder-like merchant lumbered down, his heavy legs having trouble supporting him. Although he had struck it rich by selling arms and armor to the people of the Levan Savannah, his fortune was never safe, and his last trip north, which would have made him pass through Bailefort and up to Myst, was far from a success. In fact, it was not the commercial safe-hold he thought it would be. His kiosk had been robbed, and most of his fortune had been dilapidated on buying new wares, which didn't sell as well as he first thought.

As the kettle whistled over the fire, he removed his crimson cap, which hid the one spot on his scalp that wasn't covered in dark, greying hair, wiped dust off of it and put it back on. If there was one thing he thanked the Planars for, it was definitely kehua. Those simple red beans, roasted on the fire and ground to powder, provided the much needed energy he needed to keep watch, as his sleepy black eyes were exceptionally heavy with fatigue. Pulling the kettle's handle up and off the fire, he poured himself another tin goblet-ful before looking at the sleeping oxen that rested in the patches of grass.

"Cheers." the merchant said to himself as he lifted the goblet up, drinking the black, bitter liquid. Swinging his arm a bit too much, the merchant lost balance and dropped his cup, even as he swallowed, and fell on his overly round backside.

It took him a few minutes to bring himself from his accidental sitting position to a more upright pose, even if he lumpy form did nothing to help him walk. Best he could do was wobble about, sweating from the campfire's heat.

Stretching as much as he could, raising his eyes in an upward angle �" if such a thing was possible for his bloated neck -, Tarolon noticed something moving a few good yards away. Turning on himself, he moved his blubber over to where a large spiked cudgel rested, against a half-empty stump.

Grabbing the object and swinging himself around, the merchant only had time to notice two things: four possible clients wondering into his camp, and a pair of naked legs resting out of a tent-sized cloak, which was held by a six-foot man, dressed as a ranger.

"'ey? What're you doin' ere?" Tarolon asked, putting his weapon on the ground �" the motion more like throwing a handful of salt over your shoulder for luck.

"I was going to ask the same thing, old slug." Onyx replied wryly.

Alban turned to look at the dwarf, the movement causing an arm to appear from a hole in the cloak.

"Tarl Copperwright, also known as 'Tarolon, the Peddler of Smiles'…" the dwarf retorted, folding his arms. "That blasted hog tried to buy his way into the Motherforge..."

"Oy!" Tarolon replied. "If y'abeen a bit more lippy 'bout ya tricks, we might'av hadda deal."

"I'd rather die than let some over-sized tub of lard make profit of the greatest gift the dwarves received from the Magelord!" the dwarf angrily replied, gripping at his axe with the intent of cutting a chunk of blubber off the bloated merchant.

"Well, tha'sall unda d'bridge." came the larger-than-large man's response as he turned towards his caravan. "Ya 'ere for business, I reckon… can see thad from the bitta leg showin'."

As Tarolon rubbed his sweaty hands, Alban looked at the fuming Onyx. "He's the closest thing we have to a safe rest. Put that anger, and that axe, away for tonight."

Turalyon walked over to the caravan, careful not to step on the toes of the two large ox that snored on. "Wonder what's in there-" he wondered, just as the lumpy merchant quickly wobbled �" in a comical version of running -, towards it.

"Ah, nah nah no, ya stay whey y'ar n'dai show ya me wares." the bearded blubber replied.

Korgan scratched his head. "I've never heard such a preposterous accent in my entire life." he commented. "Just where is that… um… man… from?"

Onyx rolled his eyes. "Only the Planars know. He keeps changing his story every time he makes his way into a new town." he gruffly explained. "Back when old man Sardonyx was head of the smith at Warmcreek, he came in one day, and his story? Well… he said he was heading out of Ravenhold when a bunch of orcs ambushed his caravan and stole his prized sword, which he wanted to sell to my father. From what I know, no one's even heard of that raid, or of orc raiders near Ravenhold, for that matter."

Alban shook his head, even as the overly fat merchant made the caravan creek under his weight as he pulled chests out the back of his wagon.

"Now, let see'ere." the huffing merchant spoke, wiping sweat off his brown from the work load. "Think me gots some laddies' wears in this ere trunk."

Opening the aforementioned trunk, Turalyon examined the contents. "Were you expecting a trip to Frostreach?" he asked, a bit confused. "Those are very nice pelts, but definitely not your size."

"'ardy 'ar 'ar." he replied sarcastically. "Very funny. Now look'ere, this 'ere robe was made from hell-beast pelt, snitched from the Iron Cur itself!"

Alban rolled his eyes as he placed Karyana down on the grass, a good four feet from the campfire. "That Iron Cur was a living construct. A machine-"

"A killin' machine, I reckon!" the merchant continued with his sales pitch, not noticing that it had absolutely no effect. "Legends speak that 'twas so bloody evil, the Planar-Demon flayed it to make the seat off 'is throne with it. Bloody chance I found this 'ere piece!"

The now-exasperated ranger examined the robe. "It looks like bear fur on tanned wolf pelt." he spoke flatly. "The collar and sleeves are too dark to fit the rest, and I can see the seems in the hemline."

"Oh, bugga." Tarolon said, wiping sweat out of his short, gruff beard. "'kay, ya got me. Some ranger ofda borderlands traded me this for a same map to Myst. Ya happy now?"

"Well, what didn't you say you were going to Myst?" Korgan asked, showing signs of frustration. "We were going in that same direction!"

The merchant scratched his bald spot under his cap. "Bah… if you wanna go so bad, 'ow bout yeh lot 'scort me there? I can trade fo'some clothes ta dress ya lass."

Turalyon looked down at his own robe. "I think we'd all need some new clothes. We're all torn up, scratched and bloodied from that last skirmish." he muttered, not liking the feel of the cold wind against his partially-bare legs.

"Ya gonna cost me a fortune, but deal." the overly-large man said, pulling out his thick hand to shake.

Korgan walked back over to Karyana's form. "That's all well and good, but… how are we supposed to put that thing on her? She still isn't-"

The war-priest's words fled from his thoughts when he noticed that, through all of the travel down Shardfall, her right hand still clung to the tiny twinkling object she held since the ritual's end. "Huh… wonder what that is…" he wondered, kneeling down to pick it up.

The moment he lifted the glittering item, which was no larger than the tip of a practice arrow's head, Korgan felt a growing heat from it, which was barely noticeable, but quickly grew until it burnt the skin of his fingers, as if his thumb and index had been holding a white-hot coal. The friar let out a series of curses as he dropped the item �" so much that the Planars themselves would have been offended.

No one noticed the tiny object fall from Korgan's grasp and land on Karyana's forehead. No one looked on as the tiny star left a strange burn on her forehead, like the wedge of a heavy arrow's tip.

But everyone turned to attention as the girl shot up to sitting position, looking mortified, as if she had woken from a nightmare. Her eyes seemed to flicker between colors before stopping at an almost crystalline blue, fear appearing on her face as her lungs took quick, almost harrowed breaths.

"Wha… where am I?" she spoke, panic dripping from her words, which was accentuated when her ears took in her voice's tone. "What's going on? What happened to me?"

Korgan took a few steps back, which were quickly registered by the confused and panicked Karyana. "Who… who are you?" she continued, almost too tense to notice that the war-priest was as confused as she was.

"What in all Planars is going on?" the priest asked, turning to look at Alban, who walked over to her.

Karyana's panic was making her limbs numb, even as the ranger spoke to her. "It's okay. You're among friends." he said, holding his hand out to her.

The young woman's eyes flickered to an emerald green for a moment, and all of her panic seeped into her left hand, which pushed itself in front of her. "Stay away from me!" she shouted as a blast of pure mana burst out from between her hand and his chest, knocking him to the ground, as if he had been on the receiving end of a battering ram.

Her eyes switched to a light brown as her temper dropped from panicked, to aggressive to shy, even as she wrapped her arms around her chest. "Please… he's just trying to help-"

Emerald eyes. "Just shut up! You ruined everything!"

Brown eyes. "But you were-"

Emerald eyes again. "I didn't want your help!"

As her eyes switched again to blue, Karyana shouted as tears started to flow like cascades. "Stop it!" was all she could say before she buried her face in folded arms, legs folded in sitting fetal position. "Stop yelling… please…"

Onyx dropped his axe as he looked at the young woman. "What sort of devilry is this?"

"Sounds like yah lassie's possessed." Tarolon said, wiping his brow. "Either that, or she's mad."

Alban knelt next to the girl. "Don't worry. It's me, Alban. Remember?"

Even as her eyes were hidden, the difference in tones was obvious. "Don't touch me, you filthy-" were the first words as the young woman turned away, then looked back with a shy expression. "It's okay… he's a friend…"

Onyx walked over to the ranger. "So, is she alright?" he asked, putting his battle axe away.

Karyana's eyes shifted to blue, but the shy look didn't leave. Rather, in changed from the blush of a young woman to that shiver of a frightened child. "A…Albie?"

The ranger shook his head, bringing his palm to cover his face. "Ugh… you know I don't like it when you call me that."

To Alban, that childish twist to his name came with taunts and jest from other children, who had named an albino puppy 'Alban', as a way to mock him. That was before the boy first met Karyana on the day of the Magician's Festival. Though the girl though the idea was cute, his response was more of discontent.

The young woman's hand nervously shook as it reached over to his gloved hand. "Wh-what… where are we? Where's Master Rauz?"

"Rauz?" Turalyon replied, turning towards her as he tried to slip on a brand new mage robe from one of the several chests Tarolon had left unpacked. "Last I heard he had left Wizardbane, but-"

Karyana's eyes widened as panic struck again. "No! He didn't do anything! He's not a bad man!"

Korgan looked back at the young woman. "She's delirious. We should take her to-"

"Get away from me!" she shouted with such force that the oxen woke.

Before Alban could stop his ears from ringing, he noticed a quick change in eye color, and, in a burst of light, the young woman was enveloped in a shell of energy, only for it to vanish, with her in it.

Long moments passed before anyone could hear again, and the first words the group heard were Tarolon's moans. "'suppose we ain't gotta deal, aye?"

----

Karyana reappeared seconds later, in the middle of a valley, surrounded by the outer layer of the Blasted Mountains. Around her was a small patch of land in the middle of a shallow lake. Everything around her seemed void of life, and the very air was thick with a gloomy fog.

"A-Albie?" she asked, with no response. Rising uneasily to her feet, she looked around, finding nothing to help her locate her own whereabouts.

"Albie!" she shouted, and was answered only by echo. "Momma! Daddy! Medy! Chime!"

Only the reverberating sound of her voice, which still felt alien to her, answered back as she fell back in her panicked foetal position. "I just… I wanna go home…"

----

Every citizen of Citadel was still sleeping as Demyan felt something stir. It was as if his heart had just skipped a beat, and a strange sense of unease raced through his mind.

As he looked back at Chime, he picked himself up from the bed, which woke the sleeping creature. Stretching lightly, then shaking itself, the winged creature blinked.

"You can feel it, too, can you?" the young Magelord asked the tiny familiar, who turned its head sideways. "There's something… powerful… and it's close."

Chime turned around and put itself on all fours, its large ears trying to register any sound.

Silence, then an echo. The echo of a shout…. That of its name.

Chime's eyes widened, as its bushy tail slowly started to wag.

"Huh?" Demyan noticed, startled. "You… you never wag your tail. You only did it for…" he said, before letting the rest of his sentence drift as he got up.

The little creature pranced about, mewling happily, as the young man realized what that meant.

"She's alive…"

Author's Note

Any and all comments, reviews, edits and whatnot will be greatly accepted.