It was Elbryan and not Pony who was the first to wake, the sky still dark before the dawn and still heavy with billowing smoke. The ranger tried hard to remember what had happened, then he did, and he sat, head bowed, fighting away despair.
Worst of all, Elbryan did not know Avelyn's fate, though he suspected the monk was dead. What of the dactyl? Had the creature been consumed, or had it merely flown away before the blast?
Elbryan lifted his eyes at that unsettling notion, looked at the sky as if he expected the dactyl demon to be swooping upon him even then.
What he saw was a glow, coming from higher up on what remained of the mountain, a soft white light atop the blasted peak.
Pony awakened shortly thereafter, the dulled dawn just beginning, but still the glow from atop the mountain was faintly visible. Without saying a word, the battered pair gathered up their things and started off, up the mountain trails, supporting each other through every step. Only when the dawn broke fully -- dimmed by the huge smoke cloud -- could they appreciate the absolute devastation that had come to the mountain and to the valley before it.
Nothing lived down there, they both knew. Nothing could possibly have survived. All the trees that had been on Aida's slopes were laid out flat, leafless, most of their branches blown away. Empty logs, gray with ash, stretched away in the gloom. Nothing moved across that gray sea, save the occasional flutter of ash, caught by a swirl of wind. No birds flew above it, no sounds at all broke the eerie stillness of the devastated morning.
Neither did Elbryan or Pony speak out, too overwhelmed by the sight. They continued on their way, struggling past broken stones and through patches of warm ash hip deep, hoping for some answer.
They came over the edge of the now flat-topped mountain, ;n sight of a huge plateau of empty grayness -- except for one tiny spot of light. Toward it they went, trudging on, plowing through the heavy ash. They could not discern the source until they were very close, within a dozen strides, and then they hesitated.
An arm, Avelyn's arm, protruded from the ash, holding fast Tempest at mid- blade and with a bag hanging below that.
Elbryan rushed ahead, thinking to dig his friend from the ground, thinking that Avelyn had somehow survived, had enacted a magical shield to protect himself even from this level of destruction.
When he reached the spot, he found his folly, found that the ground around Avelyn's arm was solid and only lightly covered in ash, and the monk was surely dead, his arm and hand withered, dried out, as if the great heat of the explosion had taken all the fluid from his body.
"The dactyl is destroyed," Pony said firmly when she arrived beside Elbryan. "Avelyn killed it."
Elbryan looked at her.
"Else his gift to us would have been stolen away by the demon," the woman reasoned, and she reached over and worked the sword and bag free of the withered hand. The glow went away instantly, but the arm remained, extended.
Pony handed Tempest to the ranger, and she was not surprised when she opened the bag to find all of Avelyn's stones, except the amethyst and the sunstone, within.
"It is a message," she said with confidence. "He gave this to us as a message that the dactyl is defeated."
"A message and a responsibility," Elbryan replied, looking from Pony's eyes to the bag of gemstones. "Avelyn saved us, saved us all, but the friar is demanding repayment."
The woman nodded and looked, too, at the precious bag, at Avelyn's choice, at her responsibility. "There may already be another Brother Justice on our trail," Pony remarked.
Elbryan lifted Tempest with his healthy arm. "Then I must mend my arm," he replied. "Or learn to fight left-handed."
Thus, Elbryan and Pony walked away from Avelyn's chosen grave, from Tuntun's last breath, from Bradwarden's tomb. They crossed the ash-filled valley with great difficulty, having to stop often from weariness, and that only making things worse since they had no fool or water.
Finally, they made the mountains bordering the Barbacan, and just over the ridges, they found life again and water to drink. They spent more, than a day at rest, and when she felt strong again, Pony used the hematite to relieve much of Elbryan's pain and to set his bones fast on the mend.
And so it was with strides much stronger that the pair continued on their way down the southern slopes of the Barbacan. Near the bottom, wary for any goblins or, other monsters that might be about, they found another friend.
Elbryan sensed Symphony's approach long before the horse came in sight. The ranger didn't know how the stallion had gotten out there, but then he thought of a certain elf, a stubborn and mischievous elf that had never learned to accept an order.
"Tuntun," Pony remarked, figuring the riddle.
Elbryan managed a smile. He slid Tempest into its sheath, looped Hawkwing over his back, then climbed up, offering his hand to Pony.
They rode easily that day, picking their careful way, wary of enemies. That night, they camped on a high plateau, which they agreed to be the most defensible position in the area. No monsters presented themselves, no threat at all, but the choice of the high plateau proved a good one, for in the southern sky, reaching about the horizon like the arms of God, shone the blessed Halo.
Pony and Elbryan rode fast with the. break of dawn, south along the wild trails, the weary and grieving victors, the new protectors of the holy stones.
