Shadow of Hope XXI
Cheskith shook his head, a maneuver alien to his own culture but one at which he’d sufficiently practiced so as not to appear oddly in the performing. “Alchemist’s fire will deter them, I think? I carry two flasks of it, acquired at your say-so in Sagassport…but the power of the word is not the power of fire or acid, for me.”
The young mage shook his head as well in response to Erellia’s inquiry. “I am afraid my repertoire of fire and acid spells is limited. I do have a few, but I will need time to prepare them,” he informed the two before him. Hesitating for a bit to consider his situation, he continued, “I can also only prepare a limited number of offensive spells a day without compromising my defenses or eroding my utility to the group, as I have other spells that may be beneficial to our numbers, either assisting our warriors and scouts or disabling our enemies. If you wish me to ready a maximum of fire and acid spells, I can do so. If there is another arcanist amongst us who learns his art through tomes and lore I can confer with him to exchange spells. I am more than willing to trade.” He produced a book from a large leather pouch at his side. Many had remarked to him that the location was where one should be keeping a sword. It was a small tome, a spellbook of parchment pages bound in leather.
“The one who left with the horses, Marcus, I think? He of the writer’s god should be of the skill and inclination to exchange the written knowledge that you wish,” Cheskith suggested. “But I have no books of spell-knowledge. Appreciation of the power that they hold, that I can claim, but they are not the Chanter’s way.”
Erellia listened intently to the pronouncements put forth by both Cheskith and Daroun and nodded her head in an almost knowing fashion. One delicate hand came up to her mouth, a finger tapping lightly on her lips as she considered this new information.
“I sense that Marcus also carries with him some means to summon the elements necessary to deal with our potential Trollish adversaries,” she said with a certain amount of conviction, “Though I believe it best that we attempt to remain together at all times. Our strength of numbers should serve as a deterrent to most malicious predators we may encounter. Still, should we need to separate, Daroun, you and Marcus stay together and compliment each other as best you can, while Cheskith and I will endeavor to do the same. With luck, the fates and the forest spirits will provide us safe passage.”
Erellia continued to perform small tasks of preparation around the encampment, discussing and considering any questions of magical theory that arose over the next half hour or so. At that point, she completed the menial chore she was last managing and drew her cloak closely about her, raising the hood against the rainfall.
“If you will excuse me, gentlemen,” she said politely, addressing Cheskith and Daroun. She then stepped out into the rain and made her way toward the horses and the figures of Kurn and Haron. A few minutes later, Haron approached the shelter and stepped underneath the protective canopy.
“Bbbrrr,” the boy mumbled as he shook his shoulders, a small torrent of drops raining down from his traveling cloak.
“Rotten spring runoff,” he mumbled to no one in particular as he moved toward the small brazier in the center of the space. Haron politely nodded and acknowledged both Cheskith and Daroun as he crossed the shelter, although he did seem to offer a slightly wider berth to the Lizardman. Stopping at the dancing flames, he removed his gloves and extended damp hands toward the warming light.