ale. Gracefully the birds affixed themselves to the carved wooden branch that served as a guardrail for the balcony, and Yarnhoot chirped.
“Good to see you too, friend,” Remtall smiled. “And you, Wester.” Remtall stroked their feathers graciously. “What’s this?” Remtall saw a scroll in Yarnhoot’s left talon. “For me?” He picked up the crunched paper and unrolled it.
“I’ll be damned, another letter from Krem,” Remtall exclaimed, and had Adacon heard the commotion he might have come running out to read it as well, but Calan drew his attention from the noises of the world.
‘Dear Travelers,
The Feral War has begun, and our crusade against Grelion’s slavery is stayed, as this greater evil now attempts once more to sack the whole of Darkin. I battle at the front, at the Wall of Dinbell, and the great armored centipedes of war known as Gazaran breach our lines. We hold their dark force at bay this day, but I cannot descry tomorrow’s fortunes, not even with all my powers of Vapoury. Iirevale will guide you both, as far as he might, to meet me here at the wall. Also, Remtall—I have asked Yarnhoot and Wester to perform a task for me, I hope you won’t mind.
Sincerely,
~Solun Hermit
P.S. I have sent a summoning stone. Use it once you are upon the road. An old friend of mine will bring you aid.’
“A summoning stone?” Remtall gasped. Just then Yarnhoot opened his beak, and inside was a tiny green and red marble. It was not bigger than a pebble, but the colors inside the glassy sphere swirled about, mixing then dispersing as if alive.
“Remtall, come on, it’s time to eat!” Adacon called. Yarnhoot sung merrily and bowed his head to his gnomen master, and after Remtall showed approval with a nod, both condors took flight, off to perform Krem’s errand. Remtall returned to the elven room carved from the jungle ceiling, feeling saddened at having had the company of his condor friends for such a short time. Adacon and Calan laid out huge wooden bowls filled with Miew stew, elven bread, and a light honey-fruit tea native to Carbal.
“Krem has sent word again,” Remtall said as he sat down.
“Just now?” Adacon cried.
“Yes, by way of Yarnhoot, and he has also asked both the condors on a mission, and so I let them go,” a solemn Remtall proclaimed. He handed Adacon the letter, who quickly read it while Calan sat patiently.
“A summoning stone?” Adacon said with wonder.
“Here…” Remtall said; he held aloft in his hand the tiny green and red stone, alive as the colors swirled around inside, mixing and separating.
“What on Darkin?” exclaimed Adacon; Calan and he moved to peer close at the summoning stone. “What is a summoning stone?”
“Beautiful,” gasped Calan. “I have once before seen such a stone, used by an elven druid who lived amongst the Carbal elves several years ago. Though he never used it, he claimed it could summon a giant creature of the wood—though his stone was gold and black.”
“This is all too much, too much to think about before a proper meal has been eaten—let me refill my mug, and we will eat before we are consumed by such mischievous pebbles,” Remtall commanded, regaining his tone of captainship.
Soon the three of them were feasting, and when they finished, seconds were served. Adacon drank heartily the honey-fruit tea that he learned was called Ebper Froth, a restorative blend the Carbal elves consumed often to refresh body and mind. Remtall stuck with his elven ale, and before long he was acting foolishly drunk.
“It’s just a matter of time before I meet my end, and face in heroic valor a Gazaran, taking its life whilst it takes mine!” Remtall coughed, puffing quickly on his pipe.
“Remtall, gnome of Rislind, mind to our quest and its prosperous outcome alone. We do not need talk of worthless martyrdom to spoil these last hours of haven,” Calan interrupted. Adacon marveled at her strength and bravery, both required when confronting the drunken gnome.
“Certainly right, my dear, and I am sorry. It is for my son my sorrow spills out, and ever is it renewed when the foul Zesm, kidnapper of my only child, aids the villain we march against,” Remtall said, reclaiming his calm.
“I wonder what those centipedes of war look like, and how big they are,” Adacon thought aloud.
“I have seen them before, never wearing armor though,” Calan attested. “They are as tall as five elves, and have the girth of four dwarves. They do not bother