Trestlebridge

The Red Leaves, Tales of the Red Company. V: Swords in the Twilight

Nenime, 3019, by Steward's Reckoning

Priya and Seia stood on a small rocky strand, surrounded by a vast river and steep cliffs. All the others that had lingered there, were long gone, as the darkness had started to fall. Just as they were about to take their leave as well, the single narrow path out was blocked by two wide glooming shadows, who spoke strange language.

She had a way of making friends with the odd sorts, maybe because Lyfrid herself was just as odd.  No one gave her a side ways glance at the old ruins out the Greenway, but there was a strong possibility that could change after her discovery in Trestlebridge that early afternoon.  Being it was no longer a good idea to conduct her rune reading at Amon Raith, Balisan had seen to that by his wandering out of the cottage, she needed a new place to ply her trade.

The light of a new day was just beginning to rise over the hillsides surrounding Arrowhaven.  A messenger from the ranger, Saeradan, had arrived just moments before.  After summoning Sir Gaildrin, one of her personal guards, Alkawen sent the knight to assemble any of the

It had been a strange evening.  Brulk had come to the tower and she had not been expecting him.  Comments are often made to her that because she could read runes that she should somehow know all, see the future, know the past.  It simply wasn't true, it never worked that way.  If the runes didn't want to speak or reveal anything, she knew nothing.  It wasn't like Lyfrid had a better chance of getting an answer than anyone else who asked

The seer, Lyfrid, called the sedative elixir, Mirth.  The small pots of amber liquid, the sedative elixir, would leave the imbiber pain free and calm, but it also produced hallucinations if given in larger quantities.  There was no way to predict what kind of hallucinations the elixir would produce, it depended upon the person.  In the knight's case, Mirth gave him a sense of euphoria and joy.

As she saw it, Lyfrid had two main options.  She could pretend she never saw the man bleeding in the tall grass and keep walking or she could do something to help him.  In a few seconds, she reasoned it would be easier to keep walking, not get involved.  

Amon Raith, it was called.   On top of a hill, the ruins of an old tower are still visible along the Kingsfell Road.  It is populated by refugees driven away from their farms and homes by the roving bands of Orcs who have taken up positions in the North Downs.  Also frequented by travelers who take shelter there when the sun sets and darkness, or should one say, more darkness descends on the hill.