* * *
“Long Jack’s bathrobes!” exclaimed Ned, holding his crossbow firmly in hand without anything to point it at. He took a good look around and lowered it in a mesmerized fashion. Parcifal was nowhere to be seen.
“I hope that’s simply a figure of speech around your parts,” said Judith, her blades drawn just in case. They were standing inside what remained of the ‘Long Distance Mariner’. There were bodies strewn all around; some were decidedly human. The others, the charred, mangled ones, belonged to Ygg.
“The place is a wreck. It’s like the joke. An earthquake, a fire and a kraken walk into this bar.”
“Is that really a joke?” she asked with mild surprise.
“Never mind,” said Ned and waved a hand dismissively. “The smell.. I thought Winceham smelled bad,” he added.
“They’re an odd lot, your party.”
“They’re not my party,” said Ned with an offended look drawn across his face.
“Every party has a leader. You’re it,” replied Judith, scanning the wrecked establishment at a deliberate pace.
“I think you’re confused,” said Ned, trying not to step on any grey-white pools of murky Ygg blood, but it was nigh impossible.
“I was about to say the same thing about you. You don’t see it, but you’re their natural leader.”
“There’s no leader. Noone leads us someplace. It’s just that.. We kind of happened to each other, and we’re stuck with each other. For now.”
“The circumstances are of little import. The short fellow, the halfuin; he’s too engrossed in himself. The sisters are a nice match, but they seem finicky. The sorcerer.. He’s just odd. That leaves you, the bard,” she said and shot him a sharp look, as if he was being assessed.
“What did I ever do that makes me a leader? I can hardly hit anything with this thing,” said Ned and lifted his crossbow in a mock salute.
“There are qualities and skills other than marksmanship that make a leader stand out,” she replied as if answering by rote.
“I tell jokes no-one hardly ever laughs at and I play the drum. Not to mention that my last drum was ruined.”
“I’m not a very humorous person. I wouldn’t know anything about jokes. Or much about music, for that matter. But I know you’ve kept them alive. So far.”
“That’s what leaders do?” Ned asked incredulously.
“For the most part,” she said earnestly and nodded. Her attention though was on something; it looked like she had picked a trail that Ned wasn’t even aware of.
“I thought that was just luck.”
“Luck is just a convenient name for the multitude of uncertainties that affect us.”
“It really is convenient then. Imagine wishing people a good multitude of uncertainties that affect them every time they go fishing,” said Ned and grinned thinly. Judith returned him a vacant stare of ignorant confusion.
“I told you hardly anyone laughs,” Ned told her.
“That was supposed to be a joke?” she said as she sheathed one sword. She began tracing the far wall behind the bar.
“I hope you really aren’t a very humorous person.”
“I’m not. I do mean the things I say,” said Judith and looked at Ned furtively for a moment.
“What are you searching for?” he asked her, seeing how engrossed she had become with a copper panel.
“The trapdoor.”
“What makes you certain there is one?” asked Ned and shrugged. Judith answered without turning to look around, her focus on the wall.
“Because that’s the last place where the eyeslab picked up Parcifal. Her body isn’t here. There must be a trapdoor leading deeper into the tree, where the thauma’s ether is weakest.”
“I would’ve made the same assumption if I knew the workings of that device,” said Ned with feigned indifference.
“I’m sure you would have.”
“At least you do mean the things you say,” commented Ned with a slight grin and Judith shot him a disapproving look.
“There,” she said and the copper panel was pushed back with the loud click of a spring. She then slid it aside to reveal a passage hewn into the tree’s bark, large enough for a tall man to walk unhindered. Faint amber light seeped through the far end.
“Apres vous,” said Ned and Judith looked at him with a furrowed brow.
“Just a fanciful way of saying ‘after you’,” explained Ned.
“Why didn’t you just say that?” she asked and stepped through, her blade always at the ready.
“Wouldn’t any other Ygg show up on that eyeslab of yours?”
“Those silver beads were known positions. Now, we’re entering unknown territory.”
“So anything goes?”
“That’s right. I’d appreciate it if you kept your voice down.”
“Can do. It’s not a good time for a bad joke anyway,” Ned whispered and followed close behind.
They remained silent for a length of time. The hollowed out part of the bark seemed to twist and turn roughly; it was as if whoever had opened the passage couldn’t do so in a straight line. If it wasn’t for the passage’s walls, the faint light at the far end wasn’t enough to guide them.
As they moved forward, the light became more intense. Then Judith stopped abruptly.
“Do you hear that?” she asked Ned.
“Faintly,” he admitted.
“Could it be your friend, Parcifal?”
“I’m not sure. It’s weird, for one thing.”
“What’s weird about it? Is it her voice, or not?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t heard her sing before.”
“Listen closely then,” Judith advised. The sound grew louder soon as it echoed through the rough passage, and it was indeed the sound of singing.
Our lady, our lady, claimed a warrior’s heart.
Our lady, I tell you, she thought he was lost.
The warrior, the warrior, to Nomos he’d fell.
Believe, believe, from the sky up above.
At the Holy Mountain, his body was found.
Beware, beware, for his breath wasn’t cold.
Our lady, our lady, lent him a fiery kiss.
The warrior, I tell you, he flew high again.
You’ll know, you’ll know, the Dragonborn’s time.
“Well? Is it her?” asked Judith bluntly. Ned was left speechless.
“It was beautiful!” he shouted excitedly and actually began to clap loudly. Judith looked at him with an exasperated look that meant she must’ve briefly considered silencing him permanently. She decided though that whatever harm was done, was done.
Moments later, a shady figure appeared in front of the light, wielding a sword.
“Parcifal? Is that you?” asked Ned as if asking was all the assurance he needed.
“If it wasn’t me, would I really tell you?” replied Parcifal with a feisty mood.
“Wouldn’t you?” asked Ned smiling and poked Judith to move on but she wouldn’t budge.
“Would she now?” asked Judith and couldn’t decide whether to draw both her blades or simply rush at the figure in front of her.
“It was just a joke,” whispered Ned.
“You’ve been tricked before,” Judith replied in a low-keyed voice.
“This is no trick. I feel it in my gut; it’s her,” said Ned nodding convincingly, but not convincingly enough. Judith insisted.
“What makes you so certain this time?”
“You’re one of those people that always change their order at the last minute, aren’t you?” asked Ned with a bit of aggravation in his voice. Judith had no answer to such a question. Parcifal thought provided an answer to the main question at hand.
“Having a good time with that lady friend of yours? I’m pretty sure she’s better than me. She’s got more swords after all, doesn’t she?” she shouted from a distance. Her demanding tone was a stark contrast to the sweet timbre of her singing voice.
“S
ee? Just as jealous.”
“I find your lack of criteria disturbing,” said Judith with a frown.
“You can be a difficult person, do you know that?”
“Ms. Gracie!” came suddenly a man’s shout.
“Oh, bugger!” said Judith and simply rushed towards the light and Parcifal’s figure. Ned followed behind her at a slower pace, but now it was him who felt uneasy about the voice.
“Who’s that?” Ned asked but Judith didn’t reply. She simply shot past Parcifal who sidestepped at the last moment. Ned was next; she shot Parcifal an uneasy smile to which she replied with a heartfelt mocking grin. They were inside a small opening inside the bark, where a peculiar sort of lantern cast shadows against a man wearing some sort of uniform. A bunny was happily munching away on something that grew out of the floor. Two more passages seemed to lead to what looked like a whole network of corridors, deeper and deeper into the giant tree.
“You failed to check in, Ms. Gracie,” said Tark holding a cup in his hand.
“That won’t happen again,” said Judith with an almost fearful expression, the likes of which Ned had thought impossible for someone with her qualities until that moment.
“I’ve heard that before,” said Tark flatly and added, “Ms. Teletha, this is the bard you were referring to?”
“That’s Ned Larkin,” said Parcifal and shrugged almost indifferently. Yet she shot Ned with a barbed look that made him feel guilty of something completely vague and uncalled for.
“Mr. Larkin,” said Tark and offered his hand. “Tark,” he added and raised his cup.
“That’s Bo, right? Not just some bunny you just happened to find along?”
Bo’s eyes flared up in response.
“She says she sould be feeling insulted but she really isn’t.”
“What? You can talk to each other?” asked Ned in disbelief.
“She?” exclaimed Parcifal.
“There’s probably a lot to explain but very little time. There have been developments. Judith, plan C,” said Tark. Judith nodded and began handling her eyeslab.
“What developements? What plan?”
“All you need to know is the elves you came looking for here have been relocated.”
Parcifal and Ned exchanged furtive looks, but said nothing.
“What are you doing here? What is this plan C of yours? What happened to A and B?” asked Ned a bit worried, happily petting Bo’s ears.
“I can see the term ‘comedian’ is a hard-earned one,” said Tark, letting the sarcasm in his voice flow gently, and added as an afterthought:
“She also says she actually hates the way you treat her like an animal.”