Seven comrades were close to the river's edge. Sartorius held a yarting out to Kjellinger.

"Let me come with you." The musician asked. 

"No. This is not a trip for you." Kjellinger said.

"Look. I can help."

"You would be a liability, and you would be in constant danger."

"Why do you say that?"

"Can you fight?"

"No"

"Can you cast magic?"

"No"

"I know you can do neither, so therefore, you would be a liability. You are a confidence man of the worse sort. You would be at the whim of any enemy we encountered. We would have to watch out for you, and we cannot do that. We have encountered more besides these fellows." Kjellinger said, pointing to the bodies strewn about the river's bank. "Go back to your room, and get some sleep. I cannot be responsible for you, and my friends will not be responsible for you either."

Sartorius felt dejected, but he knew his friend was serious. "You know you are ruining a perfectly good friendship." Sartorius said with a glum look on his face.

"No, I am not ruining a friendship. I am saving your life." Kjellinger said.

Sartorius knew in his heart Kjellinger was right, but he wanted to contribute. The two bards had known each other for many years since they had graduated from their bardic college in High Moon together. The trained musician had found it easy just to lope from town to town, and play the old lays people liked to hear in taverns, but Kjellinger was an adventurer. He had latched onto Thenedain, and wrote tales of Scardale. People always asked Sartorius if he knew Kjellinger, and was dismayed when he answered yes. The audiences always wanted him to play the songs Kjellinger was famous for, and Sartorius had to decline because he never learned the new music.

Xarno stood on the western shore of the River Ashaba, across from the town of Ashabanford. Dinnel, Lindisfjarn, and Boldar were going through the purses of the fallen from the recent battle they had just finished. Garntay stood next to Erewan, the elven princess, and daughter of the Regent of Cormanthyr, stood resolutely with Quillan in her arms.

"We need to depart this town soon." Xarno said.

The ranger pocketed a few coins after wrapping a purse with its string. He made sure the only coins he carried were sufficient to meet his needs. The remainder of the coins, he tossed to Garntay, who caught the supple brown pouch easily in one hand."

"Bless you my son." The priest said.

Bharavan and some of his guards appeared on the scene.

"What was all the fuss about Xarno?" Bharavan asked.

"Let us say it was a minor disagreement about the price of a room, and the tab at the bar." Xarno said slyly.

"You wore out your welcome in this fine place, eh?"

"You could say that. May we escort you to Shadowdale?"

"Please, I could use a cohesive unit such as yourselves aboard my 'fine craft'."

The musician looked at the mayhem caused by the party. The Zhentarim found out what it was like to interfere with the crown of Cormanthyr's business. People of Ashabanford gathered, and looked at the carnage caused by Xarno's party, after the Zhentarim thugs had attacked them. Hands were held over mouths of the on looking crowd in disbelief, and heads shook from side to side. Obviously, someone had seriously underestimated the party's strength.

Bharavan and his men walked with the party as they approached the loading yard for the barge just north of the ford. Bharavan had used the barge to transport not only the party, but also a wealth of supplies upriver to Ashabanford. Their journey would continue to Shadowdale.

In the loading yard, fifty men were transporting boxes by hand to the barge. Their feet splashed in the water, and clumped loudly as they stepped up to the barge to stow the cargo as directed by the barge cargo master.

Two planks were placed from the shore to the barge so Erewan could get on the barge with ease. Boldar held her left hand, and Dinnel gently held her right hand to help guide the elven princess up the impromptu brow onto the barge. With all the cargo, crew, and guards loaded onto the barge, wooden mallets were used to knock the holding pins deeper into the water, below the depth of the barge' hull. The town of Ashabanford seemed to float away in the increasing distance as the pole men maneuvered the barge into the center of the gentle current of the Ashaba River.

*****

In a large manor house near the edge of the village of Elven Crossing, a tattered and bloodstained warrior, reported to an older man who sat smoking a simple clay pipe behind a large flat table strewn with books, maps, and documents. The room was very dark for this late in the morning. Candles guttered in their sconces on the manor walls, their flames danced on the ends of their wicks with every breeze from the drafty house. A warm fire burned coal in the hearth, and dark smoke from past fires had coated the mouth of the fireplace to the top of the mantle. A cloud of billowing smoke wreathed the lord of the manor as he sat in his deep chair looking at the quivering warrior.

Setting down his simple clay pipe, the Lord Rimwold looked at the quivering warrior. The lord diverted his gaze to a figure clad in a dark blue robe stealthily stepping up a set of hidden stairs behind a narrow bookcase that opened into the back of the room behind the warrior. Ebony hands grasped the stair rails as the figure ascended the stairs.

Behind the warrior, the robed figure spoke. "Smythe, did you see which way the party went before you fled?"

Startled, the warrior turned toward the voice, and answered. "No, I did not my lord. I barely fled Ashabanford with my life."

"Did you now? How many were in their party?"

"I would estimate about five, my lord."

"Estimate!" The robed figure screamed in rage through the folds of blue darkness. "Estimate! We cannot have any estimates. We must know exactly how many there are, and where they are going. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord." Smythe said as he saw a hint of dark skin on the dark figure's hands.

"Good. Smythe, get your self to the guildhall, and find some men. Go with them to Shadowdale, and see if they have gone there." Lord Rimwold said behind the large desk. 

"Right away my lord."

The warrior hustled out of the lord's chambers, and exited the manor house. With relief, the man climbed onto his horse, and trotted the horse back to Ashabanford.

"Your servant is in need of more experience." The robed figure said.

"I have to agree with you. My people were not at all prepared for a meeting with a group possessing such strength." Lord Rimwold said. "Why didn't you inform me how strong this party was?"

"Do not come looking to me for excuses involving your mistakes. Your men should have been fully prepared for such a conflict. Such mistakes are not affordable at this time my, friend Rimwold. You and I both know that the leaders of our organization take a dim view of failure."

"Your words ring truth, my friend."

"The truth of the matter is thus. Thenedain's heir must be removed, at all costs, and the Aumersaire clan must not take the throne of Scardale again. Do not fail the Zhentarim, they will remove you if you cannot do their bidding competently."

"I will meet with my servant, and I will ride to Shadowdale. My personal attention will be devoted to this issue, and we will see it successfully to the end."

You have decided wisely, my friend. Our superiors will smile upon your actions should you succeed."

"That is my deepest wish."

"Very well." The featureless, dark-skinned one said.

*****

The pole men had maneuvered the barge into the middle of the River Ashaba. Ashabanford gave way to sprawling farms, which is the case for most of the Dalelands, and then open country. Farmers and children would wave at them as the agrarian workers watched the pole men work against the stiff current of the long river.

Erewan sat atop a single, chair-like box. The party members had built a wall of boxes to deny prying eyes as the elven princess nursed Quillan. Xarno had given the princess a blanket to cover herself, and the company looked in different directions away from her.

Soon, Erewan was down from her enclosed perch, and mingled with the adventurers who were bent on her safety. Seeking his wisdom, the elven princess stepped up to Xarno.

"Will they follow us?" She asked

"I am sure they are looking for us. We allowed the enemy no chance to see our route, of riparian travel my queen." Xarno said.

"Are you sure?"

"No, I am not. We know the power of the Zhentarim, when they are focused is extremely powerful."

"Are they focused?"

"I am not so certain, my queen."

Satisfied with his honesty, Erewan walked to Dinnel, who was playing a dicing game with Boldar. Behind them, in the shade lay a sleeping Kjellinger. The two party members immediately stood as she approached them. Boldar took a deep bow. His love and respect for the elven princess was quite evident in his manner he treated her. Dinnel smiled after he brought himself to attention in her presence. A reassuring hand on both their shoulders made them relax.

"Tell me about the Lost Dale, Dinnel." Erewan asked as she sat, and waited for the half-elf, and the dwarf to join her.

Both adventurers sat, with their attention fully on the beautiful elven woman.

"It is high arid country, my queen. The Lost Dale is nestled in the Desert Mouth Mountains to the west, on the eastside of the Anauroch. The dale itself is in a valley formed by five large snow capped mountains. The soil is a sandy reddish color, and can support different grains. My father and mother have a large farm there. They are self sufficient, and travel little outside of the dale." Dinnel said.

"Besides being a farmer, what does your father do?" She asked.

"He is a warrior, and my mother is a priestess of the faith."

Erewan smiled. "Is it a good place for children?"

"It was the best time of my life. Adventure, animals, exploration, all the things a child needs to learn about their world."

"What types of animals do your parents raise on this farm?"

"They raise cattle, but only just so many because of the limited amount of grazing land. They also raise horses, but the real wealth is in wool. Not wool from sheep, but wool from llama. They also raise those animals for food."

"What about danger?"

"Ah, my lady. The danger is not knowing the land, and what lives on the land. The danger is small with the proper considerations, my lady."

"What is dangerous about the Lost Dale?"

"The danger lies outside the dale, and tries to get inside."

"Tell me about the dangerous things you have seen."

"Orcs, goblins, and a few ogres that live in tribes. Nothing really to worry about, winter is the most dangerous time. The weather conditions become extreme in summer and in winter."

Erewan sighed, and felt relieved. "I just want Quillan to be safe."

"His safety is assured in my presence, my queen." Boldar said. "I used to live not far from there. Tethyamere was a great mine, but what once was is now lost to treachery and deceit

"Yes, great warrior of the Torkrest Clan. I know of your lineage. My husband made you a promise, as did your friends. When the time is right, and very soon I assure you. We will win back what is rightfully yours. Because of your loyalty and your passion I am certain Quillan will be safe with you guiding him in his life." Erewan said.

"Our mage has told us tales of Boldar and Garntay in their many adventures." The warrior priest said.

"Did someone say tales?" The bard said as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.

"Kjellinger, we did not mean to wake you." Erewan said.

"I have rested enough, my queen. It is time for others to prepare for the journey ahead." The bard said as he stood.

"Our party will make sure you and your son are not in danger, my queen." Dinnel said.

Nodding the elven princess watched Kjellinger as he walked around the corner of the barge. The warrior priest scooped up the dice at their feet, and extended the game pieces to Erewan.

"Would you be interested in passing the time in a game of dice?" He asked.

"I am sorry Dinnel, all I have for coins are gems." Erewan said.

Simultaneously, the half-elven warrior priest and the dwarven warrior smiled and spoke in unison. "We have money to lend."

"Please, do not ever change." She said with a smile as she rose, and walked to where the bard disappeared.

"My lady." Xarno said, trying to get Erewan's attention.

"One moment Xarno." The elven princess said.

Erewan could hear the sound of water passing underneath the barge, and the sound of water dribbling into the river. She was not expecting to see Kjellinger relieving himself into the river, and quickly turned away to give him privacy.

"I tried to warn you." The mage said.

"I unfortunately ignored your warning. I will not do that again." Erewan said with a red face.

The mage shrugged his shoulders not knowing what to say in that instance. Kjellinger reappeared with a smile as he walked up to Xarno.

"Get some sleep. You have been up longer than us all my old friend." The bard said.

"He speaks the truth." Erewan echoed.

"I will try to get some sleep." Xarno said.

Both Erewan and Kjellinger smiled as Xarno found a shady spot protected from the sun. Some boxes had been stacked loosely by the cargo master's crew, for the party's privacy. The mage was asleep with a smile of contentment on his face.

*****

Smythe and Rimwold met back at the large manor house in the town of Elven Crossing.  The reluctant warrior had five men with him.

"Where did you find these men?" Lord Rimwold asked Smythe.

"No one was available at the guild hall, my Lord. Multhimmer recommended them, they were in the Velvet Veil, so I asked them to come along." Smythe answered.

Lord Rimwold looked at the five cutthroats Smythe had brought with him. Rimwold had worked with better, but this lot would have to do. Khett, the drow mercenary hired by the Zhentarim to ferry messages, could stir up some trouble. The lord of Rimwold manor did not want trouble from the Zhentarim.

"We follow the old road to Shadowdale." Rimwold said, spurring his horse off into a cantor.

The others followed.

"My lord?" A cutthroat asked as he spurred his horse to match pace with Rimwold's mount.

"What is it?" The lord asked.

"My name is Hastor that there is Bill, Smiley, Tarl, and the tall one with the stupid grin is Bert."

"Now that we have met, may I ride in peace?"

"I was wonderin', your lordship. What is the going rate for the freight? What you plannin' to pay us? Because we take ten percent and no less."

"Ten percent? My good man, what are you babbling about? I want these people dead, and you may have their entire wealth for all my consideration. Now kindly ruminate about payment elsewhere in this column."

Hastor smiled a broad grin as he fell back in the column to tell his mercenary friends what the mission and payment was. Smythe watched the cut throats as they began counting their coins as though they already had them in their hands. The sullied warrior shook in his saddle as he remembered the practiced precision of how the ambush the now dead mage had planned went awry.

*****

Sartorius was back in his room rapidly gathered his personal belongings. A knock on his door made the bard stop packing. He swallowed nervously to keep his heart in his chest and his throat moist. Opening the door, Sartorius backed away as Multhimmer, the merchant barged in with two of his paid thugs.

The musician fell backwards to the floor, and looked up as a thug, a smoothly groomed human with a crimson scar down the right side of his face gently placed the tip of a sharp roundel dagger to Sartorius' throat.

"Going somewhere, Sartorius?" Multhimmer asked.

"Why yes, I was going to leave town after I paid you." Sartorius said.

"I will let you leave the room when I get the money now."

"Let me get it."

"Help the lad stand, will you Scar?"

The sneering scar retracted the pointed blade, and grabbed Sartorius by the collar of his jerkin. The bard was quickly pulled, choking by his cloth jerkin, to his feet by the scarred human, and then thrown onto the bed. Sartorius tried to retaliate with a punch, but a deft block of the musicians' blow, a quick punch to the right side of the bard's head from the human knocked the half-elf on his back. Not only did his face hurt, but the sensation of his fingers over the quickly swelling eyebrow felt rubbery.

Sartorius knew his eye was going to close.

"Where is your purse bard?" Multhimmer asked hautily.

"In the pack." The musician said.

Multhimmer inclined his head at a dumpy looking dwarf, who stepped forward, and ripped open the small pack. The dwarf feverishly shook the small pack, and a purse jingled as it fell to the bed.

"Where is the rest?" Multhimmer asked.

"I am good for it. I will have it for you when I get back from Shadowdale."

"Shadowdale?"

"Yes." Sartorius said as he nursed his quickly swelling eye.

"C'mon boys, this wall flower will be in debt to me in his grave. No more games for you Sartorius, until you pay off your debt. Now that I have taken your purse, you cannot play or pay." Multhimmer said as he, and his two thugs walked out of the door into the dim hallway.

The young musician stood up, and started to repack his personal possessions into his bag. Leaving the bag on the bed, Sartorius walked to the main floor of the boarding house. He began looking for the three thugs. Satisfied they had left the boarding house, the musician went back to his room, and retrieved his bag. Blowing out the oil lamp, he went to the bed, picked up his bag, and ran his hand between the mattresses. He was rewarded with the bulky feel of a swelling purse; Sartorius pulled the purse out, and tossed it into his bag.

The purse was from what he had filched from drunk patrons who wanted to hear a certain song.

Sartorius walked outside the boarding house into the street. A horse was waiting outside the building. Tying the bag to the saddle horn, Sartorius quickly untied the horse, after untying the old animal from the hitching post he took a few steps, and mounted the saddle. The now darkened streets were limned with shadows.

Sartorius faced the encroaching darkness. Letting the old horse walk the old road to Shadowdale, the bard tried to see beyond the darkness. In time, his night vision became acute. He had never used his visual abilities for out of doors. Small animals could be seen scurrying from the road into the low-lying brush near the side of the road.

Cattle a few feet from the road stood and sniffed in his general direction. Those that did not like his scent walked toward the middle of their fields. Others just stood or lay near the wooden rail fences and chewed their cud.

After he passed Elven Crossing, Sartorius was in the forest proper. The musician had never spent any time in the forest day or night. The coniferous and deciduous realm was very foreign to him. Animals moved about freely at night. Dogs could be heard barking and baying on the fringe of the forest. He thought of lighting a torch, but realized he would only illuminate himself. The musician gave up the idea when he realized he had no flint and steel.

Once he thought he saw a human form watching him from a cluster of trees. The figure was outside of his "night" vision. Fear gripped him as he watched the figure step behind a tree, and was never seen again. Cold sweat ran down the bard's neck and back. Soon the time spent in the saddle wore on the unaccomplished bard, and he fell asleep in the saddle. In a short time, physics claimed him, and he fell to the hard ground. The impact on the sore side of his face when he hit the ground made him see stars.

Gentle hands helped him up off the dirt-packed road, and helped guide him and his horse to a comfortable glade where he lay down in comfort on the cool grass. A light magically appeared, and a female elven face looked at him. Her hands explored the dark bruise on his eyebrow and forehead, and he cringed in pain at the touch.

"This is a fresh wound." She said.

"Do not remind me. Where did you come from?" Sartorius asked.

"From Cormanthyr."

"Why are you in Mistledale?"

"I wanted to catch a glimpse of the world before I retreat."

"Retreat?"

"Yes, the elves are in retreat, or have been in retreat to Evermeet. I should heal your wound, you would sleep better for it."

"You should be on your way, the road is dangerous."

"What a rude thing to say to someone who scoops you off the dirt road, and takes you to a place of safety."

"It was, and I apologize for being rude. Nevertheless, I am tired, and in some pain. So if you do not mind I will catch some sleep."

The elven lass pulled on Sartorius' shoulder as he rolled over to get some sleep.

"Hmm?" Sartorius asked.

The elven woman said a few arcane words in elvish, and passed her hand over his injured eyebrow.

"What was that you said?" He asked.

"I asked Correlon for the power through my faith to heal you. Feel." She said as she gently grasped his hand, and touched his eyebrow with it.

Sartorius cringed, but felt no pain. "You are a priestess."

"I am a priestess of Corrallon."

"Wait a moment. I just met some people who were followers of the 'Protector'."

"Yes." She said with a simple nod. "You have heard of the great 'Protector', have you seen the priestess? She and her child, the son of Thenedain?"

"In fact, no, and not recently either." Sartorius lied.

"Why do you not tell me the truth? You have seen her with those that care for her."

"Can we talk about this later?"

"Why not now, is not this exciting?"

"Exciting? Woman, we are both going to get killed if you do not put a lock on those sweet lips, and get some sleep."

"I must get my blanket." She said.

Sartorius became aggravated. As he watched the elven woman run out of the magical light, and into the darkness of the forest. She quickly returned with a bag of her belongings, and sat down beside the bard.

Pulling a blanket out of the bag, she covered them both, and said some quick words in elvish. The nearby brush surrounding them grew to an immense thickness, and their view from the road was obscured. Sartorius could hear the old horse rolling the bit in its mouth as it ruminated. Night animals tittered in the darkness, and he watched with fear as a few small animals walked into the glade where the bard and the elven priestess lay in the magical light.

The setting was perfect for a song, and he began humming an old tune, Kjellinger had taught him.

"Where did you learn that song?" The priestess asked.

"From a friend." Sartorius said.

"It is an old elven song, and only one who associates with the elves knows how to sing it right."

"Yeah, Kjellinger has a wide selection from which to draw."

"He must be a good friend?"

"Aye, that he is, that is why I am out on the road to find him."

"Is he an adventurer?"

"One of the best, and the crew he is with is not too shabby."

"He is with a group of adventurers?"

"He is, and he is well protected, and the first night out I am with some inexperienced young woman."

"Whom is inexperienced?"

"I meant no offense."

"Inexperienced? I am not, that is so incorrect. I happen to have trained with the best in Cormanthyr."

"Well, you have proven yourself good at something."

"What is that?"

"You can rescue me. Thank you for your kindness. What can I do to repay you?"

"Take me with you."

"Are you sure? Is that something you want to do?"

"I have always wanted to adventure."

"Well, all right, but only to Shadowdale."

"Are you hungry?" The elven lass asked.

Sartorius' stomach instantly reminded him of its emptiness. "I am famished."

"Good, I brought way too much food, and I am sure I cannot eat it all. By the way, my name is Dahljanna."

"Dahljanna, my name is Sartorius. Might I also say that you are a gift from the 'Protector'?"

"What a sweet thing to say."

Dahljanna brought out a small bag from her pouch, and removed a large wedge of cheese, a loaf of bread, and some preserved venison. She generously sliced off thick pieces of cheese, and heaped on three slices of the preserved venison onto a slice of elven whey bread. The elven priestess made another open-faced sandwich for herself.

"Try this." Dahljanna said as she handed Sartorius the large entree.

Sartorius took small bites, and tasted the flavor of the traveling fare. Both of the newfound adventurers ate in silence as Dahljanna produced a medium flask of elven wine to wash down the meal. The musician was elated with the food, and wine.

"Are not you afraid someone evil will find you?" Sartorius asked.

"I have been out here in the wild for many days, and I have seen only a few people on this trail. As far as evil goes, I have seen no one of that ilk." Dahljanna said.

"When did you see someone last?"

"I saw a group of seven men on horseback early in the afternoon."

"How did you keep from being seen?"

"Just like I did a few moments ago, I would hide behind my magic."

Sartorius nodded at her response, knowing the two would be adventurers had a lot to learn. With their stomachs full, the two bedded down in the now high brush, and slept.

*****

Without stopping, the pole men exchanged poles with their reliefs, and the pace of three leagues a day was maintained. Bharavan walked back to Xarno and his relaxed crew. Seven pairs of eyes pierced the darkness. Boldar had a raised brazier glowing, and fish were roasting on a spit above it.

Xarno had a fish fillet on an oilcloth, and was slowly picking at it as he watched the dark spur of the elven forest pass.

"Well Xarno, it looks like this portion of the trip will be easy." The caravan master said.

"Aye, that is well." The mage said in return.

"What will you be doing in Shadowdale?"

We have not decided yet, but we should be doing that soon."

"Where are you coming from?"

"Why all the curiosity?"

"I was just striking up conversation."

"I apologize for being rude."

"No offense taken."

"We started in Sembia, and just have not made plans, maybe Arabel, or Suzail. You know how it is for adventurers, you go to where the money is."

"Aye my friend, 'tis the truth."

"Indeed."

"Well, I will be checking on my crew. We should be in Shadowdale by early evening tomorrow."

"Thank you for the information."

Lindisfjarn walked over to the wizard. "Can you trust him?" He asked.

"Are you assuming I should?" Xarno replied.

Not on my life, the trading costers are fraught with internal struggles, and the Zhentarim feed off that turmoil."

"Well said my ranger friend. Have you been keeping your eyes open?"

"No traffic has been on the old road since we left Ashabanford early this morning."

"Excellent, I hope it stays that way."

"Indeed, we will see then."

The pole men continued on their laborious activity of transporting their heavy cargo up the river. Darkness was eerie as it closed in around the barge. The dwarven warrior extinguished the brazier by dumping a helmet full of water onto the coals. The coals hissed against the water, and a cloud of steam rose above the after end of the barge.

A loud cacophony of sizzling coals woke Quillan from a sound sleep. Boldar stood immediately, ashamed that he had not taken care in extinguishing the brazier's coals.

Erewan held her child to her breast, and he immediately went back to sleep.

"I apologize for my error my queen." Boldar said as he knelt on one knee before her.

"It was an honest mistake friend dwarf. While making us less visible you sacrificed a small amount of noise. It is nothing I cannot alleviate." The elven princess said quietly.

"My pardon." Boldar said.

"Go about your business, my friend, it was unintentional I am sure."

The heir to the Torkrest clan arose as Erewan placed a reassuring hand on the dwarf's shoulder.

*****

"Did you hear that?" The leading mercenary asked."

"Aye mate. I heard an infant." Tarl said.

"We track them until we can engage them. Bert, you kill that baby when we see them. Make it fast." Hastor ordered.

The man with the idiotic smile only nodded, and pulled out a gruesome looking blade. The hair on his arms had been removed from his constantly checking the blade's sharpness.

"So what is wrong with him?" Smythe asked Hastor."

"He enjoys the black lotus too much. He wasn't like that two years ago until he began smoking the black lotus flower. He's been known to kill for a copper, just do not cross him." Hastor replied.

"I will remember that." The reluctant warrior said to himself, and resumed his position in the back of the column.

Smythe had been rethinking his position on this mercenary job, and he did not like it. He wasn't being paid enough to risk his life for a group of people who would not risk their lives for him. The warrior slowed his process, and let the column slip further and further ahead. When Bert was out of sight, Smythe turned his horse back toward Ashabanford. He walked his horse until the clip-clop of the column's hooves were out of ear shot he mounted his horse, and cantor back toward Ashabanford.

His plan was to retrieve his goods, and go south, away from the troubled Dales. His life would benefit in its extended length. The group Rimwold was planning to engage would rip through those bedraggled mercenaries like a knife through velum.

*****

Sartorius awoke with a beam of sunlight streaming onto his face. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, and looked to see where Dahljanna was. The young elven woman was nowhere to be seen. She could not be too far, because the blanket was still on him, and the bag she used was by where she had slept during the night.

Thinking better then to speak out, Sartorius quietly stood as the joints in his knees popped loudly. He walked the popping and clicking out of his limbs. The sound of the forest was enjoyable as tree frogs and birds sang to the morning.

Suddenly he heard the sound of a branch crack behind him. Sartorius whirled, and reached for his knife. An elven warrior stood before him with a bow in his hands.

"Where is she?" The elven warrior asked.

"Where is who?" Sartorius responded.

"Do not play games with me half-elf. My sister Dahljanna, She is the elven woman with whom you slept."

"You have the wrong idea, I did not dishonor her, she took care of me after I was injured. When I awoke, she was not here. You see that her bag and blanket are still here."

"I noticed that you ruffian."

"Now wait just a moment sir elf. I am no ruffian."

"That remains to be seen. I have been sent to retrieve my sister. Losing one sister to a human outside Cormanthyr was enough, but not two."

"You have lost another sister? Apparently you have a poor track record. Do you mind sir if I sit, because if I stand, that arrow you have pointed at me is making me faint of heart."

The brush parted behind Sartorius as he sat, and Dahljanna appeared with wet hair.

"Margay! What are you doing? Sartorius means no harm." Dahljanna said.

"I was sent to find you." The elven warrior said.

"You have found me, put that bow down, and be at peace. Sartorius is on the mend after a terrible fall. I healed him, now. We are going to Shadowdale."

"Shadowdale? I think not. I am retrieving you back to the elven homelands in Cormanthyr."

"It would be wise if you do as he suggests." Sartorius said.

"Stay out of this. I can fight my own battles." Dahljanna said.

Sartorius raised his arms in mock surrender. The elven warrior advanced into the camp.

"He did not harm you, or take advantage of you?"

"The thought never crossed his mind, although he is cute in a half-elven way."

"Get your things, and we will leave this Sartorius to his own means."

"I will not leave. I was promised adventure, and then you said I had to go on retreat to Evermeet."

"The promise came before the order was given to retreat from father."

"It is my wish to see this world before I go on retreat."

"Do not be a fool. Our father will send the entire elven contingent after you with Erewan gone."

"Excuse me?" Sartorius said."

"Stay out of this." Dahljanna said.

"We must leave before someone else sees the youngest daughter of the Regent alone in the forest." The elven warrior said.

"I have news of Erewan." Sartorius said.

Both elven warrior, and the young elven woman stared silently at Sartorius.

"You know of Erewan?" The warrior asked.

"Where is my sister?" Dahljanna asked.

"The answer to that question is unknown to me, but she is in the best of hands." The musician said.

"When did you see her last?" Margay asked.

"To answer your question Margay, I saw her yesterday morning early. She was with a group of adventurers I know. They are traveling to Shadowdale, and points beyond." Sartorius said.

"Who are these adventurers?" Margay asked.

"She is with Xarno, Garntay, Kjellinger . . ." Sartorius said.

Margay held out his hand in a stopping motion. "Then she is in competent hands. As for Dahljanna, she should not be traveling with you. You are not ready for the road. Shadowdale is a dark and desperate town. I have been there several times, and I did not like what I saw. Why did they leave Ashabanford?"

"They had a big scrape with the Zhents."

"Then it is true." Dahljanna said.

"What is true?" Sartorius asked.

"The Zhentarim wants the throne of Aumersaire to remain open." Dahljanna said.

"Exactly, and their internal influences will put pressure on the guilds of Scardale, if Sembia does not get their hooks into the throne, and have the Zhentarim's representative take over leadership of the council." Margay said.

"Will the Zhentarim stop looking for them?" Sartorius asked.

"No, they will continue to hunt them down until they are dead, or the Zhentarim ceases to exist." Margay said.

"I need to be on my way." Sartorius said as he stood. "I want to be with my friend Kjellinger."

"You promised you would take me." Dahljanna said.

"I am not going to interfere with your family's business, or the Regent of Cormanthyr." Sartorius said picking up his bag.

"You promised!" Dahljanna cried.

"Dahljanna, I am sorry, but your brother would kill me if I continued to take you."

"You are wise, Sartorius." Margay said.

"I will not come home. I will just run away again." Dahljanna said.

"You are bent on this decision?" Margay asked.

"Aye my brother, I will find our sister."

"Then do so with my blessing. I will pass the news onto our father, and take the punishment for my letting you go away. Send us word of your activities, and by the Protector's name stay safe. You play with evil intentions when dallying with the Zhentarim." Margay said.

Sartorius and Dahljanna watched Margay melt into the forest. The two would be adventurers then gently shouldered their packs, and mounted the old horse.

So ends the fourth installment of the Lost Vale

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