The Path to Tread

Part I
         The light glinted off of the slowly moving stream.  Shariwyn looked down into the water, running a hand through her long, straight blonde hair.  She was dressed in a rather nondescript, earthy brown frock and cloak with a sheathed longsword at her hip.  Although she so obviously wore the clothes of a traveler, her elven beauty and grace was evident more than she would have liked.
         She took a quick sip of water before smiling softly at her own reflection, her silver-flecked blue eyes sparkling with happiness.  By the end of the day, she and her companions should be safe within the walls of Prator.  She knew the massive port city would be a temporary home at best, but she still looked forward to once again having a home, with more people than just Amber and Kiy.
         “Shari!  Come on, we need to start moving!” came a familiar shout, the voice obviously of Kiyluth, the dwarf.  With a playful sigh, the young elf turned toward the voice and called back, “You know, it wouldn’t do you any harm to wash yourself!  The stench you’ve grown accustomed to has left both Miss Amber and myself wondering if you carry a goblin in your pack.  I’m surprised Miss Amber can stand to be near you for so long, I know I find it near unbearable!”
         “Bah!” came Kiyluth’s sour reply over the nymphish giggle of his human sister, Amber.  In truth, Kiyluth knew Shariwyn only teased him.  He was, after all, a dwarf, and, although raised by humans, Shariwyn was still an elf.
         Shariwyn pondered in remembrance of the story Kiyluth and Amber had provided of their relationship:  they were indeed brother and sister, with the young human being adopted into the family after the monastery which had sheltered Amber and her family had burned to the ground, the work of some religious cult.  Kiyluth and Amber were now the only piece of the family left.  Kiyluth refused to acknowledge his family’s name, as they had passed in disgrace, and forced both Kiyluth and Amber to leave the dwarven kingdom, vowing never to return until the wrongs had been righted.
         ‘This leaves only me,’ she thought with a sigh.  ‘I am the only piece out of place, the lonely leaf that has drifted off the tree.  What am I searching for?  Further, how can I find it?’
         She had met the two when they stopped at her home village.  She, like everyone else, had been absolutely astounded by the beauty of Amber and had felt drawn to the exuding serenity and goodness from Kiyluth.  When she asked where they were going, they had answered “Nowhere in particular.”  Since then, the trio had become inseparable; no monster could stand against the talents of Shariwyn the mage, Amber the monk, and Kiyluth the warrior.
         After another anxious call from Kiyluth broke her from her remembrances, she decided to return to the camp.  Shariwyn strolled through the forest for a few moments, leaning lightly on her walking staff, before coming to a clearing where two familiar forms awaited.  Kiyluth the dwarf had a long, braided, brown beard (so long, that Shariwyn had often teased that, if it grew any larger, he should be forced to give it a name) and dark brown eyes, eyes that his enemies often felt were boring into their very soul, and wore shining plate-mail.  Onto his back was strapped his weapon of choice, a huge axe-like weapon that Kiyluth simply referred to as an “urgosh”.  Kiyluth was a dwarf that even an ogre, in all their stupidity, would not readily trifle with.
         The other was a stunningly beautiful, blonde-haired human with bright amber-colored eyes (Shariwyn wondered secretly if that was where her name had come from... dwarves were not the most imaginative of the races) who wore the dark green robes of the sect of the monastery and carried nothing but a small pack strapped to her back.  In the past, more than a few times, a too-drunken patron of the inn the three were passing through would make a comment to Amber that would make a sailor blush, but, with infinite patience, the young woman would simply smile... By the time she managed the smile, however, the man would invariably be out of the door with more than a few broken bones, courtesy of the dwarf.
         ‘Indeed,’ Shariwyn thought with a smile, ‘these two are more family than I could ever hope for.’  But dreams remain dreams, and Shariwyn was always more than happy to travel to a new place and meet new people.
         After a playful argument between Kiyluth and Shariwyn, Amber suggested, in her small, nymphish voice, they begin their journey.  The other two agreed.  All three began to walk and talk happily amongst themselves, yet Shariwyn’s gaze drifted to the clouds almost constantly... Yes, they had been on the road for far too long...

Part II
         The dusty road (if you could even call it that) meandered longer than the trio had expected.  By the report of the farmers at the last small village, they should have made it to Prator by nightfall.  Kiyluth, of course, decided that it was Shariwyn’s fault for conversing with the locals for so long, but Shariwyn was always looking with wide eyes at any opportunity to meet new people.  Shariwyn brushed the teasing comments off as almost irrelevant.
         In the meantime, Amber, who had remained silent since they left the small village, suddenly and silently thrust her hand into the air.  Simply by reading her expression, the other two knew what was coming; without words, the trio jumped into the foliage just as three crossbow bolts slammed into trees entirely too close to the three.
         Shariwyn thought fast.  She hadn’t seen the enemies, and had out of pure instinct jumped the opposite direction of Kiyluth and Amber.  She was an average fighter at best, and much preferred to be in control of the situation.  Her eyes frantically searching for an enemy, Shariwyn crouched low, readying some colored sand in her hand, the words of a spell ready on her lips.
         Kiyluth, on the other hand, was on his feet immediately, a bandit clear in his sight.  He moved like a serpent, dodging left and right of trees, as he approached his prey, his urgosh drawing back before the strike...
         Amber had dropped into a defensive crouch, steadying her inner sight and searching for her elven companion.  She knew that Shariwyn would not stand long if the fight came to blows.  Just as Amber focused her gaze on the crouched form of Shariwyn, another crossbow bolt soared straight past her... Amber had more immediate worries, she quickly realized.
         Her eyes finally focusing on a dark-cloaked bandit coming at her with a long, curved blade, Shariwyn closed her eyes tightly then threw the colored sand at the bandit, muttering a chant and calling upon arcane energies.  The sand turned into a spray of mist, seeking the bandit’s eyes precisely.  The young man fell down to the ground, a cry of searing pain alerting everyone to his and Shariwyn’s position.  With a grim and pitying look on her face, Shariwyn unsheathed her sword and abruptly ended the cry.
         The bandit in front of Kiyluth did manage to dodge out of the way of the mighty blow, but the dwarf’s momentum carried both of them to the ground in a roll, each of them fiercely wrestling with the other.  Kiyluth punched the impudent man in the face, hoping to daze him.  Only a moment too late did the dwarf realize the bandit had drawn a dagger...
         Amber ran straight for the crossbowman.  With a sadistic grin, the bandit let fly another quarrel.  A mixed look of tranquility and determination plain on her face, Amber neither moved out of the way nor stopped her mad dash.  She caught the quarrel cleanly between her hands, smiling a bit too sweetly at the bandit, who by then had realized she had gotten a bit too close.  A fist thrust into his gut was the last thing he remembered before plunging into darkness.
         Plunging his dagger to the hilt in the dwarf’s shoulder, the bandit grinned, deciding this had signaled his victory.
         Kiyluth had a different idea.  His eyes seeing nothing but death, the dwarf punched wildly at the man, bashing his face more times than he could count.  By the time he realized what was happening, Kiyluth had bashed the bandit’s head into a tree, blood flowing freely down the bark into a pool of blood at the base of the tree... Kiyluth realized he couldn’t tell the bandit’s blood from his own.  From exhaustion and pain, Kiyluth fell not-so-silently to the ground.