The Troll March Plains

The next morning brought streams of golden sunlight filtering through the gaps in the great wagons canvas. Balar awoke with a groan, painfully stretching out the crick in his neck and the stiffness around the wound on his back. Tiella was sat over him gently stroking the hair on his head and beard, concern etched on her face.

"Morning." she whispered as their eyes met. Balar peered around them his eyes captivated for a brief moment by the golden motes of dust suspended in the rays of the early morning sun. All around them the wares of their merchant benefactor were neatly piled. He spotted Majvoc sound asleep beneath a bundle of furs and close by the stranger still curled up in his blankets a wiry tuft of white hair poking out now hinting at old age.

Luna was sat nearby studying her staff. Shadows seemed to play upon its tip similar to those snaking their way over his hand and wrist. He could feel those now, cold and alien. It felt as if they were sapping the life from him. Luna looked over and smiled seeing him awake.

He heard a harsh laugh then from outside and recognised the voice of their new Dwarf friend talking to the merchant. Dyvia was it? The merchant himself had a dwarven look about him, maybe they had family or clan in common.

Balar pulled himself to a seated position and gasped as fiery pain sliced along his back. He felt as weak as a kitten.

"Be careful." Tiella urged, "You are not in good shape."

"Any chance of a pick me up?" he gestured down to his wife's dagger that she had sheathed at her waste. If she had been using it in battle it might retain some power for healing. She shook her head however,

"Luna and I discussed that while you slept. Until we remove the effects of her magic from your body trying to use more on you may do more harm than good. Especially with the added complication of the amulets." She touched the item that was nested on a chain around his neck and then her own. The two amulets bound their life forces together and lengthened his own. A dark gift from the Harlequin.

"When we get to the City we can find a private place." Luna said, "Then we can see what can be done to remove the ill effects of the magic." she kept her voice low wary of the merchant overhearing.

"And the thief?" Balar asked.

"What of him?" Luna asked with a curl to her lip.

"He has been afflicted also, though gods know how her bears it so well."

Luna raised her eyebrow and stared at the still sleeping form of Majvoc. "Has he indeed." she sniffed and then gave a short nod as if deciding something.

"Magic you say!" came a strange voice from beside them.

They almost jumped out of their skins at the sudden exclamation. Balar looked over to see the previously inert bundle of rags that was the sleeping stranger now sitting bolt upright with a look of sheer delight on his face. He was old, ancient even and human to the look. His thick white hair was wiry and poking out in all directions as was his brows and beard. He wore thick glasses that magnified his eyes and highlighted their difference in colour. One bright blue and the other green and neither pointing in the right direction. Balar wondered when he had woke up, he hadn't heard or seen him move at all.

"Eh? tell me, what magic? is it here? is it powerful."

He licked his lips and flipped open a thick book held tightly in his hands and began to leaf through the pages while talking to himself.

"M for magic, thats it, thats it. No no no. An elf, a man and half an elf." he cackled to himself and slammed the book shut.

"shhhhh" he placed his finger on his lips and went to peer out of the side of the wagon. He looked back with a grin.

"I will take a piss now and then you tell old Kespin all about magic yes?" and with that he dropped his trousers and started to urinate out of the side of the moving wagon, his pale wrinkly arse on display for all to see.