Unfinished Novel - Pt. 3

"I am going after him," Rorren said with grim resolve.  He would leave now; fly if he must, track them down, save his legacy...
         "No, you are not," countered Thedopholus.  "You cannot."
         "Why must you contradict me so?!" shouted Rorren, frustrated...frustrated and afraid.
         "Because you cannot save your people nor destroy Valhar, Rorren."
         "Yes, I can," Rorren said, tearing at his hair in exasperation.  "I have trained myself, oh mighty man you are, and I can fight!"
         "Oh, young Rorren," began Thedopholus, grasping Rorren's forearms in a sign of companionship.  "You will defeat them.  You shall avenge your kingdom, your shame.  Arlot shall be destroyed.  But not yet!  This is larger than you, Rorren, larger than just Mersyn!  They will not stop here.  You must let your anger go, for the present, and ready yourself for the next battle."
         Rorren rent himself from Thedopholus's grip, and turned his face away.  How can I abandon my castle, abandon all that I have waited and worked so hard for? he thought fiercely.  I will not stop being King of Mersyn, I will not ever let it fall!
         He turned back to the dark-skinned man in front of him, staring into his worn, concerned face.
         "I will not ask you to go into battle with me, Thedopholus, but I will not leave here."
         Thedopholus let out a frustrated sigh, tugging at his hair again, his eyes wild.  He muttered something that sounded like "a brain that is rubble is nothing but trouble".
         "I must do this!" cried Rorren, turning towards the meadow, ready to fly above Outer Mersyn to fight Arlot and Malvador, along with their terrible army.
         "NO!!" shouted Thedopholus, hurling himself at Rorren and wrapping his arms around the King's waist and pinning him to the ground, breaking Rorren's concentration of magic building in his mind.  He clutched the gold mail at the King's chest.  "You must not use your magic!  Tell me, Oh Mighty King, can you sense how many of Valhar's sorcerers are on the battle field?  And, on top of that, if you are so wonderful as you claim to be, tell me what they are doing right now?  And if, by some grave mistake in my calculations into your power that you manage to answer those questions, you shall not leave this spot until you tell me all of the different magic that they are individually able to perform, and how you can counter each one."
         He shook Rorren's mail that was still entwined in his long, thin fingers.  "Tell me, I am waiting, King!" he spat.
         Rorren hesitated, wondering if he should know these things, and if he truly was that inferior in power to Thedopholus and every other sorcerer out there.
         "Yes, you should know these things," Thedopholus said quietly, guessing at Rorren's questioning gaze.  "Because they know when you use your magic, they are able to pinpoint your location and know exactly what you are capable of doing.  They can sense you, Rorren."
         Rorren stopped.  Was he telling the truth?  What if he, Thedopholus, was a traitor?  If he could do such powerful magic, perhaps reading his mind wouldn't wok?  Perhaps Rorren heard exactly what Thedopholus wanted him to hear?
         With a sudden jolt, Rorren realized that he would never have the luxury of knowing for sure whether this tall, stoic figure was telling the truth.  This man would always be at an advantage, because he had retrieved the upper hand immediately.  He could lie so easily, and Rorren would never know the difference.  Rorren would be following him blindly on their journey, always.
         I must chose, and I must chose now, he thought.
         "I will follow you," he said with finality.  The decision had been obvious after weighing the facts.  If he defied this man, he would surely be killed at once.  However, this would give him either a chance to escape eventually, or, if Thedopholus was telling the truth, he would have a companion on his side, to help him fight his battle against Valhar.
         Thedopholus beamed at him, obviously pleased with his success.  I hope I will not regret this, thought Rorren bitterly.
         Thedopholus's grin fell quickly as his face turned grim.  "Now, Rorren, we must escape, a task I do not envy to begin."
         "We could simply fly," stated Rorren smartly.
         "And get chased by the spies Malvador has put in charge of scanning the area with their minds for any traces of magic.  No doubt they felt your sad attempt at destroying the barn earlier.  I am holding back, blocking my mind thoroughly from the barrier.  We must escape with any magic at all.  You must resist, Rorren."
         Rorren stopped to consider how he and Thedopholus could possible escape an entire vast army wrought with powerful sorcerers who know fully about their abilities and more about Rorren's than he about his own.  Valhar could track him so easily...it all seemed so hopeless.
         "We must make this swift," stated Thedopholus tensely.  "This is not going to be simple, Rorren."
         Rorren flexed his arms in frustration, clenching his fists at his sides.  He tried to hold his mind from pounding on that ever present thin barrier in his mind.
         Thedopholus turned his gaze on Rorren.  He did not need to say anything because Rorren immediately turned his thoughts from the allure of the magic that longed to be unleashed into the world.
         Rorren sighed.  "How must we begin?"
         Anxiously, Thedopholus held his hand out to the darkness, eyes closed in concentration.
         "They are coming for you, Rorren!" Thedopholus exclaimed suddenly.
         "What shall we do?" asked Rorren nervously.
         "Make haste!" replied Thedopholus, taking off into the night.  He vaulted over the fence enclosing the fields where the livestock grazed, and with Rorren at his heels, sped for the forest in the distance.
         They ran in silence, the cold air leaving white puffs of breath in their wake.  To Rorren, they seemed like a trail of breadcrumbs for the enemy to follow.
         As the damp grass continued to fly below Rorren's feet, he glanced to the left, and with horror, found he was in sight of the meadow.
         He couldn't help it.  He stopped.  He stood there and stared at the scene that unfolded in front of him.
         A great flash of light enveloped a large section of the meadow, and Rorren gasped when he realized where it had come from.  Malvador.
         The great, bright shock wave brought down almost the entire field.  His men fell to the ground.  They were helpless; Mersyn's best sorcerer, excluding Rorren, could conjure flowers from a meadow a league away.  No one could stand up to the power that Rorren realized he had never even imagined could be possible to one man.
         Then, with a jerk, Thedopholus pulled him away by his arm, dragging him roughly forward, but Rorren could not yet move.  He grabbed a lock of Rorren's golden hair, and pulled his face to him.
         "RUN OR FACE THAT!" he shouted inches from Rorren's ear.
         And, automatically, Rorren's legs began to pump again.  He could not feel his legs, could not feel his lungs, and could not feel the tears that began to drip.  "The wind must be strong," he muttered to himself.
         He could still hear the battle in the distance, but he kept his eyes on the back of Thedopholus.  He knew that if he looked again he would not be able to go on.  He watched instead the flexed muscles that propelled his guide forward, amazed at his strength and speed.  Yes, the man was well built, handsome, but older than Rorren.  Probably thirty, he guessed.  He wondered who he was, and who he must be connected.  He had not been Rorren's cook forever, he was sure.  But what did he really do, if that was not his first profession?
         They continued on, breath coming short and quick, not stopping on the field.  Rorren knew that Thedopholus was worried that they could not escape these enemies that were tracking them, and he knew they would not stop until in the safety of the forest, still half a league in the distance.
         Rorren felt a bruise building on his thigh from where the hilt of his sword continually beat against it.  He realized that he had been running this whole way with his full armor on, and that horses had been so close.  Why had Thedopholus not chosen to ride away?
         His legs pumped harder, trying to drive from his mind the thought of being overtaken, being dragged back to face Malvador.  He was now running side by side with Thedopholus, their strides matching perfectly, white clouds billowing from their mouths and floating back behind them.
         The dark forest loomed closer and closer, a great wall, a barrier between the men following them and safety.  With a great crunch, they strode through the first line of trees, landing on pathless ground littered with leaves, twigs, and an assortment of other things that the dark disallowed Rorren to view.
         The forest floor was slippery, and much colder than the open field.  Almost instantly, Rorren was shivering as they ran, dodging trees.  Rorren sought some refuge, a warm area to calm his shaking legs.
         Suddenly, Thedopholus slowed to a walk.  The transition was smooth, sleek.  He did not skip a beat, so graceful was his decrease in speed.  Rorren slowed as well, but felt himself stumble and he gasped for air, whereas Thedopholus seemed unhindered by lack of oxygen.
         "They are lost, for now," stated Thedopholus, slicing through the silence of the forest.  "Your mind is far enough away from the barrier that they can't find you."
         Rorren sighed with relief.  He kept himself distracted by trying to peer into the dim woods, wondering when they could stop.  He concentrated on not tripping, trying to follow close behind Thedopholus and follow his steps in order to find a safe path.
         The tall figure ahead of him marched on, repairing the silence that enveloped them.  They continued on, Rorren continually shaking in the icy air, even in full battle dress.  He saw that Thedopholus had a thin leather tunic and trousers, and only sandals to warm his feet.  Rorren wondered why he was not also convulsing.
         But they walked on, silent except for their breathing, which could barely be heard.  They continual movement of legs over roots, of stumbling where Thedopholus simply glided on, caused Rorren to tire quickly.  He wanted to ask his companion when they could rest, but was unsure of whether he was not talking on purpose.  He assumed that they would stop soon, and camp for the night.
         After maybe another twenty minutes of aggravating, sightless travel, the two men entered a grand clearing in the forest.  Rorren couldn't quite see the entire area, but the moonlight filtered through the treetops and allowed visibility enough to see tall grass, a small pond, and a cave to the immediate right.  Rorren guessed that this was where they would be spending the night.  Let us just hope there is not already an occupant, he thought to himself.
         Thedopholus turned to the cave, strode toward it and entered the thick dark that swallowed him whole.  Rorren could hear the echo of footsteps as Thedopholus receded deeper into the unknown cavern.
         "Thedopholus," called Rorren from the mouth of the cave.
         "Come in, ‘tis time to rest for the night," replied a voice that bounced off of the walls deep within the rock.  Rorren followed tentatively, unsure of this black place.
         However, once inside, Rorren could make out shapes as his eyes adjusted, and he found Thedopholus near the end, leaning casually against the stone.
         "Although a rock seems hard, I am sure that at your present state, you truly could not care what your pillow was made out of."
         Although Rorren couldn't make out the man's face, he knew that Thedopholus was smiling.  This eased his worry, because if he was carefree enough to grin, than danger must be at bay.
         "You are correct," replied Rorren, setting himself down onto the freezing, solid floor of the cave.  He removed his mail, although he was still cold, and set it next to him along with his sword and dagger.  He left all of his other clothes on, wishing he could find some source of heat.
         "I will return, I am off to fetch breakfast, for the sun will rise in mere hours," said Thedopholus, walking back out to the mouth of the cave once again.
         The reverberating sound lulled Rorren into a state of awareness just short of sleep.  The constant shivering caused him to not lose total consciousness, but still allowed him to rest.
         At one point, Rorren saw a bright light flare near him, then warmth enveloped him and he fell into a fitful sleep, full of flashes of light and magic and images of battle.
                             *                              *                              *
         A sweet humming filled Rorren's ears.  A faint glow was penetrating his eyelids.  With a groan, he rolled over onto his back.  He was hot, uncomfortable.  He slowly opened his eyes, for the humming had stopped.
         He glanced around, wondering why his bed was so hard.  His pillow felt like stone.  Then he saw Thedopholus, and in a flood, the last day's memories filled his head and he sat up quickly.
         Thedopholus was sitting next to the ashes of a fire, holding out what appeared to be the leg of a rabbit of some sort.  Breakfast.
         "Thank you," Rorren said hoarsely.  He grabbed the meat, and chewed it down quickly.
         "Quite welcome," replied Thedopholus.  There was still no sign of anxiety on Thedopholus's face, to Rorren's relief.  This meant that the danger was still far enough away to relax for a bit.
         "What shall we do today?" asked Rorren, thought he was sure of the answer.
         "We must move on," said Thedopholus, mirroring Rorren's thoughts.  Rorren sighed.  He knew they must continue this journey, but he hoped that someone would say, "Ha, what a humorous joke, you may return to rule your kingdom, King Rorren."
         That would never be.
         "Where are we headed, if I may ask?"
         "My home town," Thedopholus told Rorren with a grin.  He stood up from the stone he was seated at, and walked to the edge of the cavern.  He stood, hands behind his back, his tan skin filtering the sun to an almost golden glow.  Then Rorren realized it was the magical golden hue that shimmered off of him, not the color of his skin.
         Rorren sat up, rubbing his sore neck with the heel of his hand.  He stood and pulled his tunic over his head, relieved to feel a breeze on his chest.  He scratched his stomach, yawned, and followed Thedopholus out into the day.
         "What is your town of birth?" asked Rorren curiously as he stood with his legs spread, hands behind his back, and eyes tilted up into the sun.
         Thedopholus mirrored his stance.  "I lived in Dallow.  You have heard of it, no?"
         "Yes," Rorren replied.  A very tiny village was Dallow, and a long travel from Mersyn if you did not cut straight through the forest.  Thedopholus had made a wise choice in coming this way, yet he wondered whether getting lost was likely in this large expanse of elderly trees.
         "We shall be there within three days I should think, and I think quite often," said Thedopholus with a smile.  He punched Rorren on the shoulder playfully.  "Race you!"
         And he took off into the golden rays that sifted through the canopy, heading for the pond.  Rorren laughed and gave chase.
         Rorren was gaining on Thedopholus, but it looked like he could not over take him by the time they reached the pond.  He pumped his legs harder, not wanting to lose this challenge.
         At the last second before running straight into the water, Thedopholus turned, and stuck out his leg in front of Rorren.  Rorren saw the trick, but had not time to react.  His shins hit Thedopholus's bare foot, tripping him on the muddy bank, and he flipped head first into the clear blue water.
         His face hit the icy liquid with an audible splash, and his feet tumbled after, landing in the scum and filtrate at the bottom of the pond.  His hands made a terrible squishing sound as the pressed into the muddy debris, and he knew his boots would be full of the horrible, unexplainable dirt.
         He yanked his head up, breaking the surface of the water, shouting an angry growl into the morning with all of his might.  Thedopholus had plopped himself onto a dry patch of reeds, laughing hysterically at what he thought was a clever joke.  Rorren turned to him, glaring with all the hate he could muster.  He felt the pressure at his temple, the urge to use his powers to get this man back for making a fool of him.
         Thedopholus's laugh halted instantly.  He rose slowly to his feet, returning Rorren's gaze, wary of what could happen.
         I should use my magic and show him what trouble I could get him into, thought Rorren viciously.  He imagined dunking his dark hair into the gunk, hanging upside down from magical bonds, flailing to get out of the awful mess.
         And with that, Rorren began to chuckle to himself.  Thedopholus's tense muscles relaxed, and he sat back down, laughing once more.  Rorren looked down into the murky water that he had stirred up, and saw his reflection staring back, or what must be his reflection at least.
         His golden hair was covered in a deep brown coating of mud, with twigs sticking up at all angles, protruding from the wet concoction.  He imagined what his entire body must look like.
         He looked down at his boot as he held it above water, and saw that when he wiggled his foot back and forth, the mud oozed from the rim.  This was not humorous at all.
         He stopped laughing, stormed onto the bank, and tore his boots off in a rage.  Again, he felt an urge to use his magic, but restrained it with his better judgment.  Best not to get myself killed this early in the journey, Rorren thought wisely.
         He angrily made his way back to the cave, where Thedopholus's hysterics were loud enough that they were able to echo down the cave.  Rorren growled at the walls for allowing the King of Mersyn such aggravation.
         He threw his boots against the wall, and they clattered into a heap next to his mail and sword.  Mud splattered across his other things, and Rorren shouted at the top of his lungs at his armor for not staying clean.  He picked up the entire pile, ran to the edge of the cave, and through it out into the grass.
         He returned to his spot where he had slept the night before.  He stripped off his trousers, leaving only his fabric shorts on which had miraculously stayed free of disgusting filth, and sat down on a rock.  He lay his head in his hands, and sighed, his anger receding slowly.  He grumbled about having to clean all of his clothing, and kicked his trousers toward the mouth of the cave.
         Why did Thedopholus have to prod him so?  Why could he not simply leave him to his own, and not bother him?  Thedopholus was such a nuisance, and yet Rorren had no chance of escaping this maze of woods without him.  The prospect of spending any more time with the man, let alone three more days, brought on a fresh wave of rage and frustration.  He tore at his hair desperately.  There must be a way to defeat Valhar quickly.  Thedopholus was powerful, why did he not simply destroy them himself?
         This thought troubled Rorren.  The man could do so much.  Was Malvador really more powerful than Thedopholus?  He could not imagine such power being possible...yet he had seen it, had he not?  He had watched Malvador destroy almost his entire army in one move!  What more could he possible do?  A shudder ran the length of Rorren's spine, and he shivered, whether in fear or cold, he wasn't sure.  The "dip" in the icy pond had not exactly cooled him off the way the gently breeze had...
         He opened his eyes and stood up, walking out to the heap of clothing he had left in the grass.
         He glanced around, but the pile was gone.  He looked back into the cave, and his trousers were gone, too.  He shivered again, though the sun's heat was better than the dank cavern.
         He looked out towards the pond, and for some reason, Thedopholus was in the freezing water.  He began to stroll that way, wondering what the infuriating man was up to now.
         When Rorren came closer, it looked as if Thedopholus was searching for something under the water.  But when he stood up straight, he was holding Rorren's tunic.  Nearby on the bank of the pond was the pile of Rorren's clothing, ready to be washed.
         Rorren stood, watching the man rub his clothing on a rock under the water, and saw Thedopholus gently dunk Rorren's unique mail into the water, glittering in the sun, casting an even greater glow around Thedopholus.  He resemble a statue made of the purest gold, bent over the water to look at his glorious refection in the clear surface.  He looked like some sort of hero of old, a figure of great magic and heart.  Rorren realized that he held no more anger for this man.
                             *                              *                              *
         "Again," encouraged Thedopholus.  He held his wooden sword at his side, almost lazily, although the slight flex in his shoulders showed that he was ready to parry at a moment's notice.
         "I have had enough for tonight, thank you," relied Rorren curtly.  He tossed the wood down onto the leaves to his left, and sat down heavily onto the dirt floor of the forest.  The slight sliver of moon hung next to a blanket of shimmering stars stared back at him has he peered through the thick foliage of the trees.
         "I would rather you did not give up so soon," replied Thedopholus, though he also set down his weapon and took rest on a nearby boulder.  He turned his face upward, his silhouette stone still.  The scattered rays of light that the tiny moon allowed cut a parallel line across his face, creating two perfect halves.
         "I need my rest if we are to continue on at such a grueling pace tomorrow," drawled Rorren, frustrated at all he was being forced to do.  All this fighting tonight was pointless, thought Rorren.  I will never need my sword if I become a powerful sorcerer!
         Thedopholus sighed.  "You are quite aggravating, Your Highness," he said with a mocking tone.  He placed his head in his hands, then rose and walked next to a large tree next to Rorren.  He leaned against it, and slid to the ground. 
         "Why, thank you," Rorren said to Thedopholus.  "I love those kind comments on my character.  Care to comment my looks?"
         Thedopholus chuckled.  "What looks could you mean, Sire?"
         "Oh, how humorous we are," answered Rorren dejectedly.
         Thedopholus chuckled once again.  "Sleep well."
         Rorren did not respond.
                                                           *
         Again, they trudged on in the forest.  It was raining.  Hard.  Thunder clapped every few moments, and every lightening strike caused Rorren to leap in the air in fear.  His nerves were nearly shot, and he could hardly see anything except for Thedopholus's calm figure ahead of him, steadily moving forward, wading through the mud that sunk to mid-calf.  They continued on, with only one break in the afternoon when the rain drops were so large that drowning was a large possibility even though the men were not in water.
         Rorren was extremely...afraid.  However, he tried to emit a completely annoyed, enraged aura.  Although Thedopholus most likely saw through his disguise, Rorren still tried fiercely to hate everything around him...it was not difficult.
         For the third time in so many minutes, Rorren landed face first into the mud.  His screams of anger and fear were muffled as he flailed his arms frantically, trying to free himself for air. Finally, with a terrible squelching noise that rang in his ears, Rorren pulled his head out of the gunk, picked himself off of his knees, and pointed his face up to catch the torrent that spilled in through the trees.  The mud washed off of his face and hands, but had begun to rust his golden mail.  He grumbled and shouted, though most of the noise was drowned by another vicious clap of thunder that pealed through the forest.
         Rorren jumped in fear, yet again falling straight into the mud.
         Thedopholus, though Rorren could not see him, was chuckling hysterically, trying not to allow Rorren to hear or see him.  Rorren was struggling helplessly yet again against the ultimate force of...mud.
         He helped Rorren up this time, allowing Rorren to take his hand and pull himself into standing position.  He smiled at Rorren, who glared back with all the hate he could muster.  Yet again, Rorren looked to the sky for cleansing.
         The horrible ordeal lasted until they came to an assortment of stones, boulders, and fallen trees that resembled a sort of platform above the filth of the flooding forest floor.
         "We will rest here tonight!" shouted Thedopholus over the roar of rain and thunder.  The tumult pounded continuously, dragging Rorren down, soaking his clothes, making his sword and armor feel like mountains.  He shuffled along, pushing his legs through the foot-high filth, and threw himself down on the nearest boulder.
         He began to breathe very audibly, and very quickly, almost hyperventilating.  He tried to calm the outburst, but his fear continued to grip at his throat, constricting his air.
         Thedopholus sat down next to him, removing his boots and placing them upside down.  The large boulder would act as a large stretch of open ground.  The water poured off the edge of the great slab of rock, and the extreme overhang of shrubbery caused a bit of shelter on the back half.
         "I will return," said Thedopholus, facing Rorren squarely.  He looked deep into Rorren's ice-blue eyes, making sure that leaving him was the right decision.
         Rorren nodded, and scooted back under the canopy of leaves.
         When Thedopholus was out of sight, Rorren pulled his legs up and placed his chin on his knees, an old habit from childhood that he had not used for years.  It had been his comforts after the death of his mother and brother.  Now he did it, hoping to simply survive the evening.
         Quickly, after what seemed like an hour, he threw his legs back out when he saw Thedopholus climbing back up onto the rock, the mud rising, now engulfing the man's knees.  The tall man bent under the shelter of leaves over Rorren's head, and placed large, wide branches covered in enormous foliage on top of the other protection.  The water ceased to drip onto Rorren's weary head.
         "I have brought us food again," said Thedopholus, leaning close to be heard over the roar.  He threw down another rabbit at Rorren's feet, and Rorren ogled at it, famished.
         "You must wait until I have created a fire," said Thedopholus when he saw the look upon his companion's face.  "Sleep now, and I will wake you when it has cooked."
         Exhausted and unnerved, Rorren only nodded in compliance, removed his tunic to use as a pillow for the third night, and drifted into a soggy dreamland.
                                                           *          
         Again, a golden glow pounded at Rorren's lids, eager to drag him from his slumber.  The heat was intense, but cozy as Rorren sat up and saw a fire inside their makeshift tent.  He wondered at how Thedopholus had managed to find dry timber in this never ending monsoon, but dropped the thought as the aroma of the delicious rabbit wafted into his nostrils.
         "I caught two more while you slept!" said Thedopholus, smiling wildly.  Rorren could not help but grin back at the piece of bone wedged in between Thedopholus's teeth.
         Thedopholus tossed two rabbits his way, and Rorren caught them both, digging into the succulent flesh without a second thought.  He had no time to taste until he felt the food hit his stomach.  He tore at the flesh, inhaling it like a man starved of oxygen.
         "Tedoflus-" mumbled Rorren around his food, but was cut off.
         "Call me Teddy," said Thedopholus with a grin, flashing the white bone protruding from his mouth.
         "Teddy," continued Rorren, already beginning on his second cuisine "when will be there?"
         "I estimated already at three days," replied Teddy, looking at Rorren with an unreadable expression.
         "I wondered whether this...disaster...had slowed us down."
         "I anticipated it," Teddy told him simply.
         "Oh," was the unintelligent answer Rorren mustered.
         "Once you have finished, you would be wise to rest again."
         "Mhhm," replied Rorren, already tossing the bones to the side and settling back down into the comfort of his somehow dry, warm tunic-pillow.  His eyes closed and his mind fell back into sleep before it could register.
                             *                              *                              *
         As he heard birds chirping in the distance, Rorren's eyes opened slowly, enjoying the snug warmth next to him.  He felt the lick of flames tickle his toes...then they began to burn, so he pulled them back towards himself.  But the pain only worsened.
         His eyes now wrenched open, and he looked down at the hem of his trousers and saw the orange fingers crawling up his leg.  He belted out in agony, ripping and tearing at the fabric desperately.  He yanked them off before they could spread, and he watched in horror as the fire devoured the rest of his clothing, and clenched his fists in anger as the black ashes floated off in the wind.
         Why did everything horrible always happen to him?  His whole life since he became King of Mersyn had been nothing but disaster on top of disaster.  Was he to become some tragic legend of old?  He shook his head, realizing that he had to shake this curse upon him, and begin dwelling on the positives.
         What were the positives?
         "I have the rest of my clothing," he recited sarcastically to himself.  "And we have food, fire, somewhat of a shelter...we did not drown yesterday...and, of course, I have Thedopholus."
         "Your sentiment is overwhelming," said Teddy, strolling atop the rocky platform Rorren still occupied.  Rorren jumped, aggravated at the sudden entrances that Teddy insisted on making all the time.
         "We must continue," Teddy stated, dropping a piece of furry hide that appeared to be some sort of bear cub.  On closer observation, Rorren realized that it was a combination of the fur of the rabbits they had consumed in the past days.  The thought of eating another made him cringe.
         "I made you a pair of trousers when I saw yours go up in smoke," Teddy said, gesturing to the heap at his feet.  Rorren wondered how it could have been constructed in mere minutes, and also realized that he was wearing nothing on his bottom half save for under shorts.  He shifted awkwardly, trying to cover as much skin as possible with his arms.
         "Try them on," Teddy continued, pointing more forcefully to the trousers.  Rorren grabbed them and shifted so that as he put them on, the fur covered a large portion of his bottom half.  The fit well, if not a bit to short in length, and instantly warmed Rorren's cold legs.  He shifted experimentally, and they were quite comfortable and, he realized with a grin, quite dashing.
         He smiled at Teddy.  "Thank you very much, Thedopholus."
         "Not at all."
         "So we shall reach Dallow today then?" Rorren asked, eager to end this nightmare.
         "So we shall," Teddy said with a grin, and yet again to Rorren's utter dislike and groan, headed off into the woods.
         As they marched on, Teddy began to talk.
         "So," he began, "I think it is time that we discuss what has happened."  He took a deep breath and put his hands his back as if strolling along the countryside.  "You were betrayed.  That much we know.  But Arlot, who as you very well saw, is in league with Malvador, King of Valhar.  This knowledge is quite shocking."
         Rorren slowly rubbed his chest, kneading the sore skin where the dagger was plunged into his flesh by Arlot.  It still throbbed ocassionally, but Teddy had healed him well.
         "So, your enemy is quite large to say the least-an entire kingdom and more.  So, how many more have betrayed you, do you think?
         "I know the answer, of course.  I have sensed them, and they are many, Rorren."  His piercing brown eyes glinted gold in the light which filtered through the towering trees.  "There are an excess of one hundred in your kingdom alone.  And that is only the ones I found.  It is highly likely that there are a vast number more.
         "I have delved into their thoughts, and they have been planted in your Mersyn line for centuries, Valhar circulating spies and informants over the years, refreshing and adding to the supply that are loyal to another crown.  Their eyes have been carefully trained on you and your movements, those of your father, and of your forfathers.  They have watched your castle for a very, very long time."
         Colors swirled, thoughts merged, splayed, vanished...Rorren could not accept what he had been told.  "Is that how they know when..."
         "Yes," Thedopholous said quietly.  "The deaths of your mother and brother were a great...opportunity in their eyes," he finished, carefully picking over his words, in no way disguising to Rorren the disgusting truth.  The King of Mersyn, or so he thought before he was shown his ignorance, walked on.  He was completely numb, realizing that his father's death, too, was cause for the upperhand in battle to Valhar...they had known.  He shook his head vigorously, clearing away the invading, overwhelming sorrow that he had spent his life fighting from his mind.
         "Yes," Teddy finally said after giving Rorren awhile to think on his own.  Rorren continued to breathe deeply and steadily, concentration on minimal tasks such as those to fend off the intruding despair.  Again he shook his head, pushing forcefully on his temple as if he was pushing with his fingers the memories that haunted his mind...hide and seek in the forest...a special treat for her sons...the cake trampled, destroyed, unrecognizable as the beautiful surprise it had been...
         "Well," Teddy said, once again attempting to bring Rorren from his reverie.  Rorren's mind had been just at the breaking part, the pressure too much...  "The next step is obvious.  Fight back.  However, the simplicity is entirely in the phrase, not the means of achieving said statement,"  he finished in a sing-song voice, trying to lighten the gloom that had settled over their journey.
         Teddy stopped.  "Rorren, we will avenge them," he said quietly.  He gently placed a hand on Rorren's shoulder, but he flinched at the touch, so Teddy pulled it away slowly.  They continued walking, Rorren shuffling his feet quite audibly in the leaves, oblivious to everything in front of his eyes.  His mind was elsewhere.  If Valhar's army had been facing him he would not have taken any notice.  Again, his subconcious would only react by following the fluid, graceful movements of Thedopholus leading the way in front of him.
         For a long while, Rorren continued to have no sense of his surroundings.  All of his thoughts dwelled on his past.  He fought fiercely to drive them out, to unclench the fist which had pounded and smothered his self control ever since the siege of his kingdom.  However, like sand in a sieve, the memories leaked into his mind's eye.  He saw his mother's smile, his brother stealing Father's armor to play with, his father himself laughing in his booming voice when he had been flung from his horse.  A slight smile tugged at Rorren's lips, which had he noticed would have been an abominable act of emotion.  He could only dwell on the tawny stallion rearing at the quick dash of a rabbit across the path...his father splashing on his back in the puddle...grabbing his sons, the young Princes of Mersyn, and wrestling in the filth...
         Rorren realized now.  He finally understood the grave importance of being King.  It hit him suddenly that that his father had been a ruler, taking care of his people...but his own son suffered...that was what the heart of being a ruler was.  Even when someone who is supposed to be the most important object you could ever be responsible for needs you more than they could ever express, you must first care for those less fortunate, those that can do you harm if you do not help...your subjects come first.  Always.
         Rorren had unconciously been standing still for an unknown span of time.  Teddy was standing next to him, keeping watch, waiting patiently for Rorren to resolve his internal problems on his own time.  Rorren appreciated this, a strange emotion for a King...
         Finally, Rorren had exhausted all thoughts, and his eyes focused upon the task of walking and finding a place to spend the night.  They had begun to walk again, something which he could not remember, and he saw Teddy's broad back swaying in front of him, leading him on like a shepard with his precious sheep, the lesser following, trusting, blind.
         Within a few minutes, which Rorren had slowly spent concentration fully on the small rip right below the left shoulder of Teddy's tunic, the men stopped.  Teddy walked up two craggley stone steps to a simple oak door in the black night.
         "We are here," Teddy announced.
         "Should we not find our own residence?" asked Rorren nervously.  "That would seem a safer option..."
         "We shall indeed commence searching for our own place tomorrow, but for now we shall stay with some friends of mine," said Teddy, rapping three times upon the wood.  Rorren waited apprehensively, hearing grumbling and stumbling as a lock was loosed and a crack of light appeared at their feet as the door was slowly opened.

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