[Mkguild] MK: "Last Light" (Act 1 of "Snow Storm") 5/5

[Hallan Mirayas]

   Drift jolted awake with a gasp and clutched at his chest in the darkness, then sagged back on the bed and focused on getting his heart to stop racing.

   It was a good plan, but it died stillborn when he heard the floorboard creak next to his bed.  Whirlwind was swinging even before he realized he'd snatched it from under the pillow, and the intruder yelped in pain as the collapsed battle staff caught him across the arm.  Something flew against the wall and shattered with a crash, and Wolfram grumbled, "That is the /last/ time I try to wake you up without a ten-foot pole.  Ow."

   "Wolfram?" Drift asked, rather unnecessarily, still trying to sort dream from reality.  The room's utter darkness didn't help, deep in the cave of the Glen Avery inn.  "What- are you all right?"

   "I'll probably have a bruise the size of a dinner platter under my wool tomorrow, but I'll live.  I think the sleeping medicine I was going to offer you is a complete loss, though.  The tankard, too."

   "Sorry."

   The ram snorted softly, crouching down and trying by feel to find the pottery shards in the dark before he stepped on them.  "So this is why you insisted on the bed against the wall: it leaves your smithing arm open to swing."

   "Pretty much."  Drift groped for the bedside table nearby.  "Wait, let me get my-"

   The door to the room swung open with a brilliant white flash, and Drift and Wolfram both flinched and shielded their eyes from the painful brightness.

   "-light.  Ow.  Hi, Xavier."

   The black leopard, clad in a nightshirt, a glowing white orb flickering and arcing in his upraised palm like a living thing, lowered his rapier when he saw Drift and Wolfram were the only two in the room.  Behind him, Misha also relaxed his guard.  "Are you all right?  I heard a crash."

   "Yeah," Wolfram answered before Drift could reply.  "I just dropped a pitcher, that's all.  Hold the light up so I can find the pieces without stepping on them, will you?"

   Xavier flicked the white orb into the room, brightening it with an actinic flash, and Misha edged around the leopard to help with the cleanup.  "Are you sure that's all that happened?" he asked, peering carefully at Drift's expression.

   The samoyed didn't disappoint him, replying with an embarrassed smile.  "He startled me in the dark and I took a swing at him."  He held up Whirlwind for a moment, and then tucked it back under the pillow.  "Sorry."

   "I'll be fine," Wolfram replied before Misha could ask, flexing his wrist with only a minor wince.  "At worst, I'll have a bruise for a few days.  It was a glancing blow."

   "If you say so," the fox replied, still not completely convinced that there wasn't more to the story, but at least mollified that no permanent damage was caused.  "Let me know in the morning if you have any problems."

   "Will do, boss."

   A few minutes of cleanup later, Xavier and Misha headed back to bed, and Wolfram eyed Drift over the flickering glow of a lit candle.  "Want to talk about it?" he asked finally, carefully plucking a sliver of ceramic from the split of his right foot-hoof and flicking it aside.

   Drift's eyes slid away from Wolfram's, and his voice turned deliberately neutral.  "Not particularly."

   "All right.  Whoever you're chasing in your nightmares better hope you don't catch them." Drift looked up, startled, and Wolfram snorted in amusement.  "We’ve been sharing a room for a week, and you talk in your sleep.  But that’s enough about that."  Changing the subject, he grabbed the samoyed's wrist and lifted him to his feet.  "C'mon.  I've got a surefire get-back-to-sleep-fast method."

   Drift grimaced, remembering the usual common ingredient in any of Wolfram's 'surefire cures'.  "Am I going to have a hangover in the morning?"

   "Only if I make it wrong."

   "Why does that not fill me with confidence?"

   "Oh, ye of little faith..."

-----

Feb 29

   Drift had found a second love at Glen Avery.  Thus it was that, on the morning of their departure from the village, he could be found at a table in the inn's common room, his tail threatening to batter Xavier off of the chair next to him as Kinslee Sapere, the innkeeper's very pregnant wife approached.  The doe, in spite of the semi-waddle that her gravid belly forced upon her, smiled at her guest's enthusiasm.

   "More biscuits, Mr. Snow?"

   "Yes, please!"

   Wolfram chuckled from across the table as the doe set a plate of sweet, buttery biscuits on the table, replacing the one Drift had emptied so quickly before.  Xavier, intercepting the samoyed's swinging tail and seizing it to stop its assault on his backside, remarked, "You are to biscuits as Misha is to muffins."

   "What?" Drift asked around a mouth full of food, then swallowed and pulled his tail out of Xavier's grip.  "I'm hungry and they're good."  Turning his attention to the doe, he belatedly wiped some crumbs from his muzzle and asked, "Would it be possible to get the recip-" 

   "Kinslee!" The innkeeper hurried over, the protectiveness of a stag for his doe mixing with the anxiety of a first-time father as he put his hands on her arms and tried to herd her back to the private areas of the inn.  "What're you doing up?  You're supposed to be resting- the babies could come at any time!"

   Kinslee would have none of it.  She shook him off and swatted him on the rump with the emptied platter.  "I'm tired of resting, Jurmas- they'll get here when they get here and not a moment sooner.  Now quit fussing."

   Jurmas' nostrils flared for a moment as he tried to rein in his temper, and the trio at the table gave him a sympathetic smile.  "We already tried," Wolfram said, holding up his hands in surrender, and the other two nodded.  Kinslee gave a triumphant smile, flicked her tail once, and waddled off to see if one of the other tables wanted something.  Jurmas watched her go, huffed once, and fixed Drift and Xavier with an 'I'm watching you' glare before departing.

   Xavier leaned back in his chair, brow whiskers raised in a mixture of amusement and astonishment.  "I almost feel as if I've been assaulted by a look alone," he said, and Drift nodded agreement.

   Wolfram chuckled.  "It's an herbivore thing.  Don't worry."

   Misha chose that moment to enter, breaking the train of thought.  "All right people," he said, snagging a biscuit from the tray.  "We're delayed.  The wagon we're to escort back to Metamor broke down on the way, and they don't expect it to be here until sometime this afternoon.  So, until it arrives, we've got some free time.  Don't go too far in case they get it fixed more quickly than expected."

   Wolfram's face lit up like a child getting a present on Yule morning.  Xavier, on the other hand, steepled his fingers in concern.  "Can you send a message back to them, to ask if they can expedite the repairs?"

   "Why do you ask?  In a hurry to get home?"

   The weather mage lowered his hands to the table and shook his head.  "There's a large storm building to the north and heading this way.  I expect it will be here by nightfall, and I'd rather not be caught out in it."

   "Why didn't you mention this earlier?"

   "I didn't think it would be necessary.  If we had left on schedule, we would have been back in Metamor well before the storm arrived."

   Misha frowned.  "For the record, Xavier, I consider that a mistake," he said slowly, not pleased with this new development.  "Never assume that things will go as planned.  Still, better late than never.  I will try to get a message to them.  Can you get me a better approximation of when it will arrive?  If necessary, Drift and I can head out in taur form and assist."

   "Even with magic, predicting the weather is not exact, but I will try.  I have heard that the Glen has a tall scout tower that can see above the trees- if I can get up there to study the clouds, I should be able to get a closer approximation."

   "All right," Misha replied, nodding in agreement, and then broke into a smile.  "If Wolfram's near-vibrating is any clue, he wants to go try a spar with Sergeant Angus."  The ram chuckled, but didn't deny it.  "I guess that means you're with me, Drift, unless you'd like to commune with the clouds with Xavier."  Like Wolfram and Xavier, Misha had decided not to leave Drift alone in Glen Avery.

   "What did you have in mind?" Drift asked.

   Misha's smile became an outright grin.

-----

   "Uncle Misha!"
 
   "Taur rides!"

   "I want piggybacks!"

   "Yay!"

   Drift had encountered hordes of children before, having delivered food to the Metamor orphanage.  He had been charged and climbed on by the Maus children during the Harvest Festival.  But he had never before encountered a true swarm...  until now.  Wryly eyeing Misha from underneath the small hands of the shoulder-riding rat that was unknowingly attempting to squish his brow down below the level of his muzzle, he asked, "You had to introduce me to your godchild and his siblings, didn't you?"

   Misha looked back with two children riding on his taur body and grinned.  "As a matter of fact?  Yes, I did."

   The Matthias children.  Four kids, all the same age, all at a high-energy stage in their life, and all very excited to see their Uncle Misha and his friend.  Even with their mother and their nurse to help, it was, for a time, utter chaos.  And then, just when the children had started to settle down, Misha had wound them right back up again with an offer of taur rides.  The foxtaur's grin widened.  "Where else was I going to find another willing taur-shifter on such short notice?"

   "Charge!" shouted Erick, the tan-furred boy-rat on Drift's own back.  One hand extended skyward to wave an imaginary sword, he bounced his feet against the samoyedtaur's ribs like a knight spurring his charger.

   Drift yelped and half-turned at the taur-waist, frowning down at the excited rat-child.  "I am not a horse," he protested... or he tried to.  It came out more like "I am nod a horff," when Baerle, the dark-furred daughter on his shoulders switched from patting his brow to clapping his cheeks and giggling, a sound mirrored by her siblings on Misha's back.  "Hay!  Qui fat!"

   Even Misha couldn't suppress a chuckle (not that he tried), but when Drift turned a much-put-upon look on him, he shooed his smile away.  "That's enough, you two.  Drift is being very nice to let you ride on him.  Settle down and no more playing with his face."  To the dark-furred boy and light-furred girl on his own back, he said, "Charles?  Bernadette?  Are you ready?  Then hold tight, because off we go!"

   "Whee!"

   The morning passed with surprising speed, and the children weren't the only ones disappointed when the wagon back to Metamor arrived just before noon, pulled by a team of Keeper horses.  Kimberly and Baerle came to collect their brood and invite Misha and his companions for lunch while the wagon team rested and ate, but it had to be a short meal.  Xavier brought word that they would need to leave the Glen within the hour if they wanted to outpace the coming storm.  Still, Drift was in a happy mood while he, Wolfram, Misha, and Xavier helped the Polygamites load the wagon, humming tunelessly to himself as he tossed another bundle of fur up to Misha.  "Catch!"

   The fox caught it without trouble, snagging it by the twine with which Wolfram had tied it to keep the freshening wind from catching it and carrying it away.  "Got it," he said as he stowed it and readied himself for another.  "So what do you think of the Matthias family, Drift?" he asked.

   "They're good folk.  I'll miss those kids," Drift replied, taking another bundle from Wolfram.

   "Even 'Squishyface'?" the ram teased, his eyes glittering with mirth.  Drift hadn't been able to keep the story concealed, not that he'd tried hard.

   Drift lofted the bundle up to Misha.  "Yes, even Squishyface."

   The fox barked a laugh.  "Thinking, maybe, about a few of your own?"

   Drift paused for a moment, his brow furrowing, while he waited for Wolfram to finish tying the next bundle.  "Yeah," he said at last, his tail started to wag.  "A few at least."

   Work around the wagon ground to a halt as Wolfram, Misha, and Xavier's heads turned to look at Drift, and the horses then looked as well trying to figure out the reason for the pause.  For a moment, the wind blowing through the trees had no competition, the gentle creak of wood against wood the only sound to be heard.

   Xavier was the one to break the spell.  "So you found your sign, then?"

   "Yes," Drift replied.  "But not where I expected it."

   "Good."

   Wolfram hefted another bundle of fur, freshly tied.  "Definitely good."  He heaved it up to Misha, bypassing Drift entirely.  "Catch!"

   "Oof!"

   "That's the last of the loading."  Xavier made one last count of the goods on the wagon, just for completeness' sake.  "Is there anything else before we go?"
    
   A glance shared itself out among the horses.  "We still have one passenger unaccounted for," one of them said.  By the sound of his voice, this wasn't exactly welcome news.

   Misha looked up from tying down the last few bundles, his good ear flicking forward and his eyes widening in surprise.  "I thought we were the only ones coming," he said.

   "He was a last minute addition- he said he'd come into an unexpected windfall and wanted to take care of some business in Metamor."

   "Who?"

   The newcomer was heard before he was seen.  /Tump.  Thump.  Tump.  Thump.  Tump./  Pause.  "Aw, hell."  

   Almost unrecognizably clean compared to his prior appearance, the bear-otter Byron nevertheless gave himself away as soon as he opened his mouth.  "You're coming, too?" he griped.  "There goes the neighborhood." He pushed past, his cane and wooden leg the source of the distinctive sounds that had preceded him, and he growled irritably as he climbed aboard the wagon.  "I'm here.  You're loaded.  Let's get the hell out of here before the whole town decides to come along."

   Misha cursed under his breath, and Byron smirked in reply.

   As he had done with everything else Byron had said, Drift mentally sanitized the trapper's comments even as he committed them to memory.  He planned to mimic them to Alexis later for her entertainment.  Xavier, however, was not so amused, and he promptly asked Drift and Misha if either was planning to run in taurform rather than ride.  When both said yes, he then asked for a taurback ride rather than share the buckboard with 'that odious devil'.

   Byron, hearing this, raised one arm to sniff his armpit, and then snorted.  "Shows what you know, you stupid dandy.  I bathed no more than three hours ago.  The girls don't like it when I show up smelly."  His scowl segued into one of the most nausea-inducing leers that Drift had ever seen, coupled with a swaggering little hitch of his trousers.  "At least most of 'em don't.  Stella thinks it's manly."

   Silence descended on the group again, and again Xavier was the one to breach it.  "I'm trying to think of a way for you to be cruder, I just-"  The leopard shook his head.  "It's not coming."

   Byron started a snarling reply, but Wolfram 'accidentally' bumped the trapper as he sat down next to him.  "Get your own chatting companion, city boy," the ram called down to the leopard with a sly wink, and he clapped Byron on the shoulder hard enough to nearly unseat him.  Seizing the bear-otter's shoulder, he squeezed the abrasive trapper side-on against him and grinned.  "Us country folk have to stick together."  Farm-grown and soldier-trained, Wolfram could nearly match Byron in crudity when he put his mind to it, and he did.  The bawdy banter kept the trapper busy, too distracted to start antagonizing anyone else.  It was a good plan, but also a mixed blessing, as the rest of the party soon discovered.  Between the two of them, they hastened the trip back to Metamor by at least half an hour by driving the horses and taurs to run faster and so drown the two reprobates under their footfalls.

   Byron was laughing, a raucous and grating guffaw, when the group crested the last rise before Metamor.  Overhead, dark clouds were sweeping in fast, flickering with internal lightning as they strangled the setting sun.  The wind, rising all day, now buffeted them in earnest, carrying the cold, sharp scent of snow.  In the dimming twilight, Xavier's sharp feline eyes were the first to spot something amiss- a reddish glow over the nearby town of Euper.  He pointed.  "What is that?"

   Misha recognized it, and his fur bushed out in alarm.  "Euper's on fire!"  The foxtaur lunged into a gallop, and yelled for the rest of them to follow.  "Come on!  They'll need help!"

   The party raced down the road with the lowering storm clouds in hot pursuit as the first snowflakes started to fall.

TO BE CONTINUED...

 		 	   		  

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