home
***
CD-ROM
|
disk
|
FTP
|
other
***
search
/
ftp.ee.pdx.edu
/
2014.02.ftp.ee.pdx.edu.tar
/
ftp.ee.pdx.edu
/
pub
/
frp
/
stories
/
adaz+sutekh
/
adaz.02
< prev
next >
Wrap
Text File
|
1991-03-08
|
5KB
|
115 lines
(Message inbox:120)
Return-Path: stehman@hubcap.clemson.edu
Received: from eecs.ee.pdx.edu (eecs.cs.pdx.edu) by jove.cs.pdx.edu (4.1/pdx-client-evision: 1.14
id AA11558; Thu, 20 Sep 90 06:00:45 PDT
Received: from hubcap.clemson.edu by eecs.ee.pdx.edu (5.61/pdx-client-evision: 1.14
id AA29869; Thu, 20 Sep 90 05:52:56 -0700
Received: by hubcap.clemson.edu; Thu, 20 Sep 90 08:52:31 -0400
Date: Thu, 20 Sep 90 08:52:31 -0400
From: stehman@hubcap.clemson.edu (Jeff Stehman)
Message-Id: <9009201252.AA11962@hubcap.clemson.edu>
To: trent@eecs.ee.pdx.edu
Subject: Re: Story: Adaz & Sutekh (iii)
It's just you. :-)
Jeff Stehman
--
Prayer
"...Guide my actions so they will not cause Bernaldo any more sorrow.
Be with him always, amen," Sutekh finished his silent prayer. He was
kneeling before an alter, a cleric standing beside him. Sutekh nodded
and again bowed his head, this time to receive the cleric's blessing.
"...and may Delleb be with you," ended the cleric's
benediction.
Sutekh rose and, thanking the cleric, left the tower and
entered the courtyard where Adaz and the horses were waiting.
"Ready?" Sutekh inquired.
"Not really. I'm used to late nights, not early mornings,"
Adaz replied. "In fact, I'm used to going to bed at dawn and getting
up in the late afternoon."
"That's rather ironic," Sutekh commented. "A drow who loves
the daylight and a human that doesn't. We'll make a fine pair on the
road, no doubt."
"Ah, but you cheat. You use magic on your eyes while I have
none to change my sleeping habits."
Sutekh shrugged and inspected his gear one last time. His
main weapon, the Sword of Lyons, was stowed in one of his saddlebags
with its invisible hilt protruding, just in case. This short sword
had the sometimes annoying power of, when sheathed and belted on,
making the wearer invisible; an invisibility better than any spell
Sutekh could manage.
For show, a long sword was hanging from his saddle. The only
weapons on his person were an enchanted dagger, a boot knife, the
quarrels to his hand-crossbow. The hand-crossbow itself was stowed in
a saddlebag.
Just before mounting up, Sutekh slipped on his backpack.
"I give," Adaz sighed. "Why do you wear a backpack when
you're riding a horse?"
"My spellbooks are in it," he said simply, as if that answered
her question. However, seeing that she was far from satisfied, he
continued, "Horses die, sometimes quickly. I might not have time for
anything more than grabbing my sword. Thus my sword is the only thing
of importance that isn't carried on my person."
"Your horse is not going to die," she said rather sternly.
"On the contrary, my horses have a tendency to die. Come to
think of it, this one might be a record; I've had it over three
years."
"You're cruel!" Adaz accused him, but then her curiousity got
the better of her. "What happens to them?"
"Let's see; slain by arrows, run onto pikes, taken by orcs,
taken by Ecthalion..."
"Don't say his name," Adaz responded without thinking.
"Excuse me, taken by 'Ee', taken by slavers..."
"Wait a minute. You ran your horse onto pikes?"
"Is it just you or do all human women interrupt when someone
is talking?" Sutekh was careful not to meet her gaze. "Yes I ran it
onto pikes, intentionally. Somebody had to take out the guards and
the horse and a raven were the only ones on my side. And, for your
information, I nearly lost my spellbooks because they were in my
saddlebags. Come to think of it," Sutekh finished with a shrug, "I
nearly lost my life."
Adaz was hurt. "How can you do that to such sweet creatures?"
she asked, patting the withers of her horse.
"Adaz, horses are too big and too stupid to be sweet.
Children are sweet. Songbirds are sweet. Even weasels are sweet from
time to time..." His familiar squirmed inside a pouch at Sutekh's
side as his thoughts touched it. "Horses are just big and dumb."
Adaz turned her back on him and jammed her unstrung short bow
into the arrow-case strapped to her horse. Walking to the other side
of the animal, she hung her small sword from the saddle horn and swung
into the saddle. Sutekh mounted his own steed and the two rode out
the gate of Autumnwell Castle and through the village of Autumnstead.
"What's the route?" Adaz asked through a yawn.
"South the length of the Wildcoast, west through Celene and
the Duchy of Ulek, then into the mountains in search of a tower built
into a mountain; a tower once owned by a dwarven smith."
"Why?"
"A friend of mine will be going there as soon as we can get
back and let him known what he's in for. The smith is, or was, one of
the best and Ivan was apprenticed to him at one time. Apparently some
pretty strange stuff has happened there of late and Ivan means to
straighten it out. Ee might be involved."
Adaz was instantly awake. "You know, Greyhawk really isn't
such a bad place."
"He's not that big and bad, Adaz," Sutekh laughed. "Besides,
he won't be there. He's preparing for war, remember?"
"That's what you say. I've noticed not too many people
believe you."
"Bernaldo does. Does anyone else matter?"
Adaz sighed. "So how long will this journey take?"
"A month?" Sutekh shrugged. "Depends on when the horses die,"
he finished with a smile.
Adaz just shook her head.